


Sunday Love

by Cauliflower_steaks



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Minor Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 29,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cauliflower_steaks/pseuds/Cauliflower_steaks
Summary: Sixteen years ago, Imperial Princess Edelgard, her uncle, and her mother secretly slipped away and took up residence in a sleepy countryside village. Sixteen years later, King Dimitri of Faerghus carried out his father's final wish for his country and promptly disappeared.A pastoral story about love and secrets.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 58
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

‘What do you reckon our first port of call should be?’ Dimitri is sat beside Dedue, knee-to-knee in the tiny, rickety carriage. 

‘I’m not sure exactly what state the cottage is in, but given how late it is, it seems we won’t make any substantial progress this evening. We should stop in town before we arrive to pick up some necessities.’ 

Dimitri nods. ‘I’m lucky to be going along with you, Dedue. You certainly know your way around the countryside.’ 

Dedue smiles. ‘The vegetation may be different from Duscur, but the lifestyle and work should be mostly the same. In truth, I’m rather looking forward to it.’

Dimitri feels a warmth in his chest- a smile from Dedue is a rare thing indeed, but perhaps slowly growing less so. 

They stop shortly after in the town square. Dimitri assures the coachman that they can walk the rest of the way to the cottage, and sees him off. The marketplace is tiny compared to the ones that populate every open quarter of Fhirdiad, with just four stalls still open and three already closed up for the day. They purchase some basic food and lumber and prepare to follow their map towards their new home. 

A delicious smell intercepts their path out of the town centre. He glances at Dedue, who is staring wistfully at the alehouse across the road. They haven’t eaten since they departed the last town this morning- he’s prone to forgetting about hunger, but he knows Dedue isn’t. 

‘Maybe we should stop in?’ Dimitri suggests. Dedue furrows his brow in thought for a moment.

‘There’s no need. We have enough food for tonight.’ Dimitri sees right through him. 

‘We deserve a nice meal after all we’ve gone through to get this far, don’t we? It’s my thanks for all your help, Dedue.’ For once, Dedue needs little convincing. He just nods and crosses the road. Dimitri follows. They draw the heavy wooden door back and are met with the smell of stale beer that has sept deep into the worn-out wooden floorboards. The place is lively, with quite a few people crammed into the small space. The sound of chatter and glasses clinking stops as soon as they enter the room. Dimitri can feel every pair of eyes bearing into them. He hates that feeling. He keeps his head down and tensely makes his way to a table in the furthest corner. Dedue is standing at a counter, and due to the silence in the room, everyone can hear what he’s ordering. Dimitri feels himself going flush. 

Once finished, Dedue settles into the chair opposite him. After about five minutes, the talking starts again, though much more hushed. The hostile glances, however, continue. Dimitri leans over the table to get closer to Dedue.

‘I hope you are prepared for a lifetime of solitude, Dedue.’ He’s joking, but he realizes after the fact that this had not come across in his tone. Regardless, Dedue’s facial expression does not change- he simply nods. There’s some truth in the joke, anyway- he hopes they can settle in well eventually, but worst-case scenario, a life spent secluded in the countryside with only Dedue and some cows for company is not a bad prospect. Anything is preferable to the life he’s led up to this point, anyway. 

The barmaiden approaches their table and all but slams their plates on the table. The food does look good though, and he notices the way Dedue’s eyes soften at the corners as he looks down at his meal. Dimitri can’t tell whether it tastes good, but he can tell that the meat is tender, and the roast potatoes are pleasantly crispy. Surprisingly, Dedue ordered two beers. Dimitri eyes the tall glass tentatively- neither of them are drinkers. 

Dedue must have noticed his hesitancy, as he leans in closer to Dimitri to talk. ‘I thought this called for a celebration. If you do not want it, I will not take offense.’

‘Oh no, Dedue, that’s very kind of you.’ Dimitri apprehensively reaches for his glass and half-raises it in celebration. Dedue follows, and they all but whisper their cheers as they quietly clink their glasses together.

\--

Once finished, they head out onto the road. Though socializing may not be their strong point, they’re both well-versed in reading maps. They estimate it’ll take about an hour to walk to their new home from the town centre, which, compared to the marches they’ve been on, is nothing. They walk in silence, enjoying the scenery as the day turns to night. 

‘This must be it,’ Dimitri announces, glancing up to compare their current location to the circle on the map. Dedue looks over Dimitri’s shoulder and verifies his findings with a nod. Dimitri feels his breath catch in his chest. This is it- their new home. The keys feel heavy in his pocket.  
  
It’s very hard to make it out in the dark, especially with his deteriorating eyesight. He can tell that it’s small, at least, and the greenery in the front garden is so overrun that it’s difficult to traverse the path to the door. Dimitri reaches for the keys in his pocket and takes a deep breath, before pushing it into the latch. It unlocks without issue. The doorframe is far too small for them, so they both have to duck as they enter. Dimitri raises his oil lantern so that the hall is visible, and begins his survey of the house.   
  
It’s cold, that’s for sure, but the interior seems to be mostly intact. There are small holes here and there, and he hears the sound of mice scurrying into corners, but compared to the living conditions they’d been subject to a few years prior, this is perfectly acceptable. Nothing in comparison to the luxury of Fhirdiad castle, of course, but that was exactly what he was looking for. 

They light a fire and get settled into bed.


	2. Chapter 2

They sleep easily and rise early. Dedue sets off shortly after breakfast to attend the livestock market that is being held in town today. They only intend to keep enough animals to sustain themselves- a few cows and chickens, and not much more. Dimitri took enough gold with him to finance a simple lifestyle for the foreseeable future, so long as they can produce the majority of their own food. 

Dimitri is working in the garden, loosening some soil for the eventual carrot patch that will be planted there. The work is physically intensive and methodical, which is exactly the kind of routine that he finds the most relaxing. He can already feel a weight lifting from his shoulders. Their house backs onto a small field, about two acres in total, which is where their cows will graze. It’s separated from their garden with a small fence, presumably to keep the animals from entering. The grass is overgrown but very green and lush. The frequent rainfall in this area makes it an ideal place for farming.

He stops to take a break once his back begins to ache from bending over. He wipes his brow on the back of his hand as he looks out over their field. A movement catches his attention. There is something small and white trotting across the field. He squints- a sheep. Then another one, and another, until an entire flock of them have spilled out into the pasture. Some of them are straying from the herd, coming very close to the fence that separates the field from his garden to eat the damp grass that’s growing there. 

He notices a taller figure in their midst- relative to the sheep, that is. They’re still small enough that he didn’t even notice them at first glance. They’re dressed in white, too, seemingly from head to toe. He can tell that they haven’t noticed him yet. A sizable portion of the sheep have strayed over to the fence, however, and the figure is now approaching them, so he figures they’ll notice him sooner rather than later.

The person is a young woman, he realizes. Her hair is a beautiful silvery grey, tied up loosely in a side ponytail. She approaches the sheep with a scowl on her face and commands them to move in a sharp tone. She’s only a few metres away from him now. He wonders if he should wave. His shovel decides to take matters into its own hands by falling from the wall against which it was perched, clattering loudly to the ground. 

The girl’s head snaps up, and her eyes grow wide. Oh no. They’ve been here for less than a day, and he’s already scared off their neighbour by staring at her in silence. She’s probably already heard rumours of the two strange men who descended upon the pub last night. He needs to try to rectify this.

‘Ah, hello.’ She furrows her brow and clutches the pouch that’s resting at her hip. He must look _really_ scary. 

‘You live here?!’ She asks, her voice quite a bit more commanding than her appearance would lead you to believe.

‘Um, well, yes. As of yesterday evening,’ Dimitri says. She continues to stare at him. 

‘Please, feel free to continue using this route. We only intend to keep a few cows in these fields. There’s more than enough room for your flock to continue to pass by.’

She squints at him and says nothing. Dimitri is feeling sufficiently intimidated. Then, she loudly whistles, which makes him jump in surprise. The sheep that were grazing at the fence immediately look up and scamper towards her, and she walks hurriedly back the way she came, but not without glancing over her shoulder at him a few times. 


	3. Chapter 3

‘Mother! Uncle!’ Edelgard hastily shuts the door behind her, out of breath after running half the way home. 

‘What’s the matter?’ comes her Uncle’s voice, coming from the kitchen. She pulls off her boots and runs on her tip-toes through the hall, finding both her mother and uncle sitting at the dining table.

‘There’s a man living in the unoccupied cottage to the east of us.’

Her mother takes a deep breath, and in a measured movement, places the cup of tea she was cradling in both hands on the table. She catches her Uncle wincing out of her mother’s eyeshot. Edelgard almost wants to wince too.

‘Did he speak with you?’ comes her mother’s question. 

‘Well, very briefly, yes,’ replies Edelgard. ‘He told me I could continue to walk through his field, should I wish.’

‘Did _you_ speak with _him_?’ Edelgard can practically see her mother's hackles risinh.

‘I only asked him whether he lived there or not. I ran home as soon as I had recovered from my shock.’

‘What did he look like?’ asks her uncle, who has moved away from the potatoes he was peeling to join the conversation.

‘He is fair, in both complexion and hair, and quite broad-shouldered. I’m not sure what age he is- possibly the same as me? He wears an eyepatch, so I believe he may be a pirate.’ 

Her uncle clasps her shoulder and laughs. ‘A pirate? In the most landlocked province on Fodlan? You’ve been reading too many novels, my dear.’ Edelgard scowls. She does not appreciate being laughed at. 

‘A _retired_ pirate, uncle.’

‘Don’t laugh at her, Volkhard. It is not out of the question to think that some ill-spirited thug has come to steal her away,’ says her mother.

‘It _is_ out of the question. In the sixteen years we’ve been here, not one of us has written a single letter. There is simply no way that someone has only just discovered our location now.’

‘How can you be so sure?!’ her mother asks. 

‘Why, have _you_ written a letter?’ her uncle retorts, and a verbal spat quickly unfolds. Edelgard simply stands and watches, waiting for it to fizzle out.

‘Alright,’ her uncle says, placing his hands on the table as if to suggest that his next sentence will be the penultimate one in this conversation. ‘I will go and talk with him this evening. I am still well-versed in the art of interrogation- I will certainly have ascertained his motives by tonight. That should put all of our minds at ease.’

Her mother agrees, and her uncle returns to his potatoes. Edelgard changes into her house clothes, and settles onto the sofa with a pile of books. Her heart is still racing- this is easily the most excitement they’ve seen in a decade. Life in the village is safe but incredibly monotonous- she has been doing the same thing every single day for the past sixteen years. She almost regrets not staying longer, not asking him more questions- however, her situation is still a precarious one, and she knew she had to prioritize her safety. Hopefully, there’ll be more opportunities to talk with him- a chat with anyone outside of her family would be welcome, but a mysterious man is certainly slightly more interesting than the livestock vendor who comes by once a year. She finds herself talking to the sheep sometimes, so great is her longing for conversation.

In truth, though, she feels a significant amount of nervousness creeping its way up her spine too. Though her experiences have been extremely limited, she doesn’t find that she’s particularly _good_ at talking to people. She’s mannerly and can make simple conversation on common topics, but she’s only ever broached heavier topics with her uncle and mother. She’d like to think that this new neighbour will be an opportunity for great intellectual discussion, but the reality of the matter is that she turned on her heels and ran as soon as the man opened his mouth. 

To ease her mind, she turns to the pile of books and picks the one that’s on top. It’s not a book, precisely, but rather a pamphlet. Lately, her mother has begun to permit her to travel to the next village over once every few months, to attend their market. Though the town is still small, the market is considerably bigger than their own, and the main allure for Edelgard is the woman who sells pamphlets detailing the current happenings in Fodlan. This is the most recent installation, but she’s already read it many times over. The main news in this one is about the former King of Faerghus’ establishment of a democratic government and subsequent disappearance. While that was all very intriguing the first time she read it, now she’s just skimming for mentions of the Adrestrian Empress, Brunhilde. There’s a portrait of her sketched next to a short blurb giving an update on the state of the Empire- not much has changed, by the looks of things. She’s working introducing a publically accessible schooling system, which Edelgard thinks is a wonderful idea. Her mother calls her for dinner shortly after she had started on an update on relations with Almyra within the Alliance. She eats quickly, too excited and nervous to savour her food. Her uncle embarks about a half an hour later, and she sits in anticipation for the rest of the night.

\--

‘Well?’ Her mother asks, her uncle barely in the door. 

‘Well, I can confirm that there is no imminent threat to our wellbeing. There are two men living there, both former soldiers with the Kingdom army, though the other man is originally from Duscur. They wanted to come somewhere peaceful to live out the rest of their days. Fine men, if I do say so, and quite mannerly given their previous stations. I think they will prove most amicable neighbours.’

‘There’s another man living there too?’ Edelgard asks.

‘Yes. I don’t know the nature of their relationship, but… they seemed rather intimate, on one level or another. They didn’t say anything to confirm my suspicions, but nothing to deny them, either.’

_Oh, a couple…._

Her mother frowns. ‘Are you _certain_ that they’re to be trusted _?_ ’ 

‘You can see them for yourself tomorrow if you wish. They told me they’ll be coming into town for mass. Knowing that you would be unable to trust me, Anselma, I arranged for us to accompany them.’ Her uncle replies immediately, clearly having accounted for this question before it was asked. Edelgard feels her stomach lurch. She has so many questions, and she very much doubts that she’ll be able to get much sleep tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid there's a lot of name shenanigans going on in this story. Hopefully they'll be sufficently explain throughout the text, but there is one that's a bit more obscure. I recently learned (from Dimitri and Hapi's support) that Patricia's real name is Anselma, so she'll be referenced by both names in this story! (Patricia is how she introduces herself to people in the village to protect her identity, but her family still calls her Anselma).
> 
> I'm also working off the assumption that the version of Arundel we see in the story was him after he was bodysnatched by TWSITD, and that he used to be a nice man who cared about keeping his sis and niece safe ;-;


	4. Chapter 4

Edelgard sits still as her mother makes her up, gently tilting her face every so often to admire her own handiwork. She doesn’t at all mind the sensation of wearing makeup- she enjoys the smell of perfumes and powders mingling together, and she takes pleasure in styling her hair. What she doesn’t enjoy, however, is going to mass, and around here, that is the only occasion that calls for such preparations. 

‘What a shame you won’t join us more often…’ Her mother sighs wistfully as she pats Edelgard’s cheeks with rouge.

‘You already know how I feel about this subject,’ says Edelgard, her tone sharp enough to warn that she does not want to discuss it any further. Her mother strokes a hand through her hair. 

‘I know, I know. I only say so because it’s nice to see you all dressed up.’

Edelgard says no more on the topic. Though Fodlan’s leaders have recently made substantial steps towards lessening the power that the Church of Seiros holds over the people, she is still firmly opposed to it and all that it stands for. She knows, however, that her mother’s faith is what got her through some of the most difficult periods in her life, so she’s reluctant to be overly disparaging around her. 

Her mother stands, and Edelgard follows. She reaches for a pretty boater hat- one of the few pieces that she brought with her from Enbarr- and places it on Edelgard’s head, tying the ribbon neatly under her chin. Edelgard has a feeling this is the first time it’s been worn since they arrived here. It makes her feel nostalgic, but she doesn’t know what for. 

‘So pretty, El.’ Edelgard can hear the emotion in her mother’s voice, too. She smiles at her, and silently links her arm. As they head out of the house, her uncle following shortly behind them, she reassesses the situation. _Aren’t we supposed to be interrogating them? Why does it feel as though I’m about to walk down the aisle? I hope mother hasn’t lost sight of the situation._

As if on cue, her mother squeezes her upper arm reassuringly.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll have them figured out in a matter of minutes.’ Her voice is cold and business-like, a quality she has scarcely heard from her since they arrived. Edelgard supposes that her mother would likely be quite a sound and quick judge of character, given her former position as an Imperial consort. 

The cottage comes into view as they pass into the next field. It’s a bright spring morning, and the grass is dewy underfoot. She can feel the droplets splashing onto her calves as she walks. She can make out two figures by the house, standing outside the fence. As they draw closer, they come fully into view. There’s the pirate, and beside him stands a man with a straight face and a dark complexion, who is even taller than the pirate. 

_Oh. His hair._ It’s white, like hers. For a moment, she forgets herself, and her mind begins concocting a backstory for him- a story just like her own- until she remembers quite an important fact. White hair is a naturally occurring shade in those from Duscur, and virtually no one else. This is how she approaches anyone who questions her own hair colour- her father’s grandfather was from Duscur, and that’s how her hair turned out the way it did. Seeing him, observing the shade in its natural occurrence, is very strange. This colour that vexes her and constantly reminds her of that which she doesn’t want to be reminded of, looks so beautiful on him. His hair is long for man’s and tied neatly in a ponytail. The soft, snowy white contrasts with his hardened and handsome face. 

The man’s eyes shift downwards, and he frowns. _Oh no._ She’s been staring at him. She averts her eyes immediately.

‘Good morning, gentlemen!’ announces her uncle. The two quietly offer greetings and nod their heads in her and her mother’s direction. Her mother steps forward to stand beside her brother, pulling Edelgard along with her.

‘Good morning.’ Her mother’s voice is affectedly warm, and that somehow sends a chill down her spine. She can tell that it has had much the same effect on the two men. She stands, staring at them, assumably waiting for them to introduce themselves, but they’re somewhat slow on the uptake. After some time, the pirate man scrambles to the task.

‘G-good morning, milady. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Dima, and Dedue here is my companion.’ Her mother nods. _Dima and Dedue._ Those are unusual names, though perhaps not to someone who is more acquainted with the lands from which they come. Her mother smiles and nods, her eyes still scanning them as though deep in analysis.

‘My name is Patricia. This is my daughter, El. I believe you have already been acquainted?’ Edelgard meets his eye and bows her head. Both men follow suit. 

‘Yes, we met, albeit very briefly. It’s a pleasure to meet you, El. Er, to properly meet you, that is.’ Edelgard finds herself agreeing with her uncle’s previous assessment- though they’re a little awkward, they’re very mannerly, and have quite a refined air about them. She bows her head and returns his greeting.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Dima. And you too, Dedue.’ She makes eye contact with the other man, trying to nonverbally apologize to him for her earlier discrepancy. Dedue returns the greeting, and the three of them depart. Her mother instantly begins to walk alongside Dima- she must think him the most suspicious of the two. Edelgard decides to walk alongside Dedue- she has some questions that she genuinely wants to ask him- and hse doesn’t believe in small talk.

‘My uncle tells me you’re from Duscur.’ He narrows his eyes and scans her up and down as if trying to size up her intent. 

‘Yes.’

‘Forgive me if this is too intrusive, but are you a believer in the Church of Seiros?’

‘What’s it to you?’ 

At first, Edelgard is taken aback by the bluntness of his question- however, his tone is flat and free of anger. She supposes, then, that it’s a reasonable thing to ask.

‘I ask because I myself am a nonbeliever- and I have always been interested in the religions of other nations.’ Dedue looks at her again, no one particular emotion readable on his face. She hopes she hasn’t touched on a sore spot.

‘To answer your question, no, I am not a follower of Seiros. I practice the Duscur religion.’

‘I see. Perhaps you could tell me more about it sometime?’

‘As you wish.’

They walk in silence the rest of the way. Edelgard is pleased with herself- Dedue is interesting and easy to talk to. She finds herself hoping that her mother approves of them. She switches her attention to the pair walking in front of her- they’re both laughing, and it appears to be genuine laughter no less. 

As they walk into the church, her mother falls back to link Edelgard’s arm once again. She can feel every eye in the room fall upon them. She straightens her back and tilts her chin high. 

‘What a charming young man!’ Her mother whispers. Edelgard has to hold back a laugh- what a rapid change of heart. 

‘Dedue seems very agreeable, too,’ says Edelgard, trying to keep her tone measured despite the pounding in her chest. Admittedly, though her interactions with both men have been brief, she finds Dedue far more agreeable than Dima- most likely just because he startled her, but the fact still stands. Her mother squeezes her arm in excitement, and they take their seats beside her Arundel. 

\--

Having consciously tuned out the entirety of the sermon, Edelgard joins the crowd in spilling out into the courtyard. Unlike the rest of the crowd, though, she and her family waste no time in heading straight back the way they came, with Dimai and Dedue in tow. She takes up her position beside Dedue once again, opting to enjoy the easy silence instead of further questioning him. That is until Dima drops back to join the two of them, her mother joining with her uncle to discuss the events of the morning.

‘I do apologize for startling you yesterday, El.’ 

Edelgard’s shoulders stiffen. She’s not sure exactly what, but something about him makes her want to put her guard up. Perhaps it’s because his demeanour, in spite of his good manners and posture, is awkward and unnatural- or perhaps it’s the battle-hardened aura about him, his eyepatch, and the way he walks with a limp. Either way, she finds herself considering her response to such a simple statement for longer than unusual.

‘Think nothing of it.’ 

‘I do hope you won’t allow us to impose on your daily route. It wouldn’t do for the sheep to be disrupted in their habits, to say nothing of your own routine.’

Now Edelgard knows why he makes her feel ill at ease- he is trying far too hard to persuade her into liking him. And when told to do something, Edelgard is often inclined to do the exact opposite. 

‘The sheep enjoy a change of pace.’

‘Oh, right. I see. Of course, you would know more about caring for sheep than I could ever hope to!’ 

Dima pauses, waiting for a response. Edelgard says nothing.

Well, either way, just… do what is best for them, and disregard us.’ 

She offers him a brisk nod, and then quickens her step so that she can outpace him. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Zoro for pointing out that I uploaded these chapters in the wrong order (and sorry i accidentally deleted your comment when i deleted the chapter)!! i've reuploaded them in the right order.

‘I’m not taking that with me.’

Edelgard, having enjoyed a peaceful night’s sleep and uneventful morning, is now staring down a large, still-warm pie. Her mother has taken the liberty of placing it in a basket, and is now placing a towel over it to keep it warm and free from insects. She holds the basket out to Edelgard.

‘Yes you are. They’ll be delighted, Edelgard. What man wouldn’t want a delicious pie delivered to him by a lovely girl?’

‘Don’t even start.’ 

‘Why is my rose so thorny this morning?’ says her mother, attempting to pinch Edelgard’s cheek, though her daughter’s reactions are fast enough that she scrambles out of her way before she can get the chance. She groans audibly. 

‘If I bring the blasted thing, will you leave me alone?’

‘You know I’ll never leave you alone. But it would make me happy.’

She sighs. Her only weakness- her mother’s happiness. 

‘Fine.’

She takes the basket, roughly rests it in the crook of her arm, and leaves. The thought of having to deliver this to them is mortifying in every sense of the word. She doesn’t understand why her mother can’t just do it- she’s the one who wants to impress them, after all! She should have known all along that she would have such a drastic change of heart. Her mother must be just as bored as her, if not more so- but still, she would prefer to not be used as a pack mule for her humiliating whims.

She walks swiftly, whistling at the sheep when the need arises. The cottage is coming into view. She prays that, at the very least, she’ll be delivering the pie to Dedue. She draws close enough to see the finer details. Dima is outside and waves enthusiastically at her as soon as he sees her. _For fucks sake._

She very, very nearly keeps walking. She could just bury the godforsaken tart in the ground in the next field over. But of course her mother is going to enquire after the pie, and ask them whether they enjoyed it, and she would be heartbroken if she discovered that she’d done that. 

She leaves the sheep to graze, and reluctantly walks towards the house. Dima puts down his shovel. 

‘Good morning, El. The weather is fine today, isn’t it?’

This is the kind of conversation that Edelgard actually feels confident in carrying out. However, she does not actually enjoy discussing the particularities of the weather- it’s dull and uninteresting. Thus, she hurriedly unhooks the basket from her arm and holds it away from herself.

‘This is from my mother.’

‘F- from your mother? Oh, no, I can’t possibly accept such a generous-’

‘Just take it.’

‘Are… are you certain?’

‘Yes.’

He reaches for the basket. Edelgard makes sure to remove her hand before his own can make contact with it.

‘Please give your mother my sincerest thanks, and Dedue’s as well. And thank you, for taking the trouble to deliver it here.’

‘You’re welcome.’

And with that, Edelgard turns her back on him and continues on her way.

 _That was downright rude. Where did your manners go?_ comes the little voice in her head that insists on chiding her whenever she does something wrong. It’s true- that was too much. She feels guilty. She didn’t really intend to be so mean, but apparently her awkwardness takes quite an unkind shape, and causes her to lash out. She winces as the freshly made memory starts to replay in her mind, but takes a deep breath to calm herself down _. You’re still learning how you socialize, after all. Hiccups are to be expected. Just try to be kinder next time._

\--

Dimitri walks inside and places the basket on the table in front of Dedue. Dedue looks up from his book but says nothing. 

‘A present from Patricia, delivered on behalf of El.’

‘I see.’

Dimitri sits down across from him and pours himself a cup of tea from the pot that Dedue has already brewed. He mulls over his thoughts for a moment, trying to decide what he’s going to say. He takes a deep sip of tea and sits forward.

‘Say, Dedue… what do you think of El?’

‘You know I am not a skilled judge of character.’

Dimitri knew this was the answer he would be faced with. He shoots Dedue the most pleading look he can muster, and Dedue cracks in less than thirty seconds.

‘She seems fine.’

Dimitri hums in acknowledgment of Dedue’s assessment. He folds his hands in his lap.

‘I thought we might ask her over for tea someday.’

‘Alright.’

Dimitri pauses for a moment. If he asks her, she’s certain to say no. He doesn’t like doing this, but he decides to ask Dedue for a favour.

‘Would you mind… asking her for me? When she passes by tomorrow?’

‘Why?’ Dedue frowns.

‘I get the impression that she… does not like me.’

‘With all due respect, you always think that others dislike you, yet in most cases, that is not the case.’

Dimitri sighs. ‘I know, I know… but this time I _really_ mean it, Dedue. She practically sprints away from me any time she sees me. You would have thought she was handing me a basket filled with explosives just now, with the speed she took off at.’

Dedue takes a sip of tea. ‘Then why do you wish to invite her over?’

‘I… think we got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to try again.’

Dedue says nothing. 

‘ _Please,_ Dedue?’

This time it’s Dedue’s turn to sigh.

‘Fine. I will ask her tomorrow. I brought some harder to find teas with us from Faerghus. I can offer her some of those.’

‘Thank you, Dedue. I mean it. I’m sure she would be delighted.’

Dedue gives him an odd look, and departs to tend to the chickens.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s midday, and Edelgard is making her way back from the western field with the flock. They’ve eaten well and exercised, so it’s time to go home. She can see that some of them are in need of a sheering- perfect timing, given the fact that the clothing market is taking place at the end of the month. That’s how they make most of their living- wool. She tends the sheep, her uncle sheers them, and her mother spins yarn and then sells in metres. They’re the only family in the town who can supply that kind of fabric, so it’s always in high demand. Of course, she pitches in in any area that she can, but she prefers the hands-on aspect of the job. 

She’s passing by the cottage again. She almost doesn’t look over, but she can see from the corner of her eye that it’s Dedue working outside today, so she does. He offers her a stiff wave, and she walks over to him.

‘Hello, Dedue.’

‘Hello.’

Silence.

‘Dimi-- Dima would like to know if you would join us for some tea. We are about to finish eating the pie that your mother prepared.’

Edelgard feels her ears turn red. Why would he specify that it’s Dima who wants her to come to tea? Is that strange? No, she’s overthinking things. It’s probably just because Dedue is awkward as well. No need to put too much stock in it. But should she accept? 

‘Um.. do you mean right now?’

‘If it pleases you.’

Won’t her mother be worrying after her? And what of the sheep?

She glances over her shoulder. They look quite content to graze in this field, for the time being. And surely this wouldn’t take longer than a half-hour. 

‘What… what kind of tea?’

‘I brought some rarer blends with me from Faerghus. I have Crescent Moon tea, cinnamon tea, and a rose petal blend. You are free to choose whichever you like.’

Oh. That changes things.

‘Yes. I should like to join you.’

He nods, and she follows him into the house. Dima all but jumps out of the rickety armchair he was seated in when they walk in.

‘E-El, welcome. Please, do excuse the state of the house.’ 

She nods. It’s not that bad. It’s less cosy than her own home, but certainly still serviceable. She sits at the table, in the seat nearest to Dedue. That means she will be sitting across from Dima, but she supposes there’s no real way around that.

‘What tea would you like?’ asks Dedue.

‘Ah… the rose petal blend, if you don’t mind.’ He nods and sets about brewing the tea. Dima lifts up a knife and, extremely cautiously, cuts three slices out of the pie.

‘This pie was delicious. I dare say I’ve never had a better pie in all my life. Isn’t that right, Dedue?’

‘Yes.’ Dedue says, with no emotion behind his words. Edelgard can’t figure out if Dedue is fatigued by Dimitri’s constant niceties, or if he’s just like this by nature. 

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

Dedue pours her a cup of tea. She holds it to her nose- it’s divine. She tries a sip and feels like she could jump for joy. It’s perfumey and rich, and it reminds her of red carpets and gold ceilings, and of her older sister going to her first ball. 

She draws herself back from her reminiscing to join the conversation. Though the topic is fairly dull, she finds herself in better spirits now.

She sees it out of the corner of her eye. From the window, a flash of grey, and then a flurry of feathers. She snaps her head to look. In the garden, a young boy with silvery hair has taken two of Dedue’s chickens, one under each arm, and is currently running towards the field.

‘Dedue, your-’

Dedue is out the door and on the boy’s tail before she could even fully process what just happened. She and Dima stand up and move to the window to see what is going on- Dedue is fast, but the boy is faster, even when weighed down by two fat, squawking hens. Their silhouettes are getting smaller and smaller in the distance. 

‘Um… does this happen often around here?’ Dima asks her, staring straight ahead of her. He’s much easier to be around when he isn’t fixating on her.

‘I have never seen anything like this in my life.’

‘My God… oh, look- he’s caught him.’

Indeed he has. Dedue is now standing, the chickens under his arms instead of the boys’. He’s talking to him. The boy looks angry.

‘Wow.’

Now the boy is hanging his head in shame. He points southward, and a few moments later begins to walk in that direction. Dedue follows him.

‘Oh Dedue, what on earth are you doing?’ asks Dima, though mostly to himself. Edelgard looks at him. He sighs and draws away from the window.

‘Well… It looks like he will be a while. Would you like to finish off this pot of tea?’ 

Edelgard can’t bring herself to refuse such a lovely blend.

‘Yes, please.’ 

Dima smiles and pours her another cup. He resumes his spot across from her and keeps his gaze mostly down in his lap. He looks so nervous that she begins to feel guilty. He’s been nothing but nice to her, after all- she should try to be kinder. She decides to reiterate her earlier point.

‘I’ve definitely never seen anything like that happen around here before. Not that I see much, but no one has ever tried to steal anything belonging to us.’

Dima looks up at her, his good eye wide in what looks like pleasant surprise at the sound of her speaking. He seems to gather his thoughts for a moment before speaking.

‘Ah, I’m... glad to hear that chicken snatching isn’t a common occurrence around here. Trust us to be the first ones on the receiving end, though. It seems as though trouble has a certain knack for finding us!’

She forces a polite smile. In truth, she has many questions that she’s dying to ask, but she doesn’t know where to start. Why did they move here? What was life like before? What is the Kingdom like? Have they, by any chance, been to Enbarr in the past few years? She takes a breath and decides to start with the easiest one.

‘So, how long have you and Dedue been a couple?’

He turns his head to the side, in the same way a confused dog might. 

‘Oh, me and Dedue? We’re- we’re not a couple, actually.’

Edelgard feels her ears going bright red. Oh god, she is going to murder her uncle when she gets home, for planting such strange ideas in her head.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that.’

‘That’s quite alright. Lots of people think we are. I don’t know why, but it… never really panned out that way.’

‘I- I see.’

She takes a very deep sip from her cup, hoping to drain it as quickly as possible. 

‘Thank you for the tea. I must be on my way now.’

Dima practically leaps out of his chair, causing a clattering of wood against the hard tiles of the floor.

‘T- Thank you so much for coming. Dedue has plenty of nice teas stockpiled here, and I’m not much for exotic blends, so please do feel free to come by whenever you feel like it.’

She pushes her chair neatly against the table. 

‘That sounds good. I hope your chickens return safe and sound.’

Dima smiles. ‘I’ll certainly keep you updated on the situation.’


	7. Chapter 7

Dimitri is fully enjoying the benefits of having a routine. He wakes early, has a simple breakfast with Dedue before they part ways to work individually. Dimitri is currently focused on building sufficient shelter for the animals, while Dedue is working on planting crops. 

He gathers his supplies and starts hammering nails into wood. The structure is beginning to take shape- the chickens seem content to run in and out of it, at any rate. In about three hours' time, he’ll take his lunch with Dedue, and then resume working until the sun starts to set. 

There’s really just one thing missing from his routine, and that’s El. It’s been almost a week since she’s passed by- he hasn’t seen her since they had tea together, since the chickens were stolen. He checks over his shoulder periodically, hoping to see her. Securing another piece of wood to the doorframe takes his full attention for a few moments. When he looks back at the field behind him, he catches her small figure slipping into the next field over. 

He quickly steps down from the wooden ladder and heads out into the pasture. He’s been so eager to tell her the story about Dedue and the chickens that he finds himself rehearsing how he’ll describe it to her in his head. She seemed to warm up to him that afternoon, but then she disappeared for almost a week. He fears he said something to upset her, but he has no idea what that could have been. He tries to compose himself before he passes through the bushes and into the next field.

El is sitting on a tree stump, surrounded by her sheep. In front of her is an easel, and she holds a palette in her left hand as she paints with her right. She’s painting a faithful landscape of the field, sheep dotted across the grass. It’s lovely- Dimitri stands for a moment and takes in the prettiness of the moment, before moving closer to her to make his presence known.

‘Hello, El.’

She turns nonchalantly, as though she’s been expecting him. He hopes she didn’t realize him standing there all that time. 

‘Hello there.’ She looks at him for scarcely a minute before turning back to her painting, but at least she gives him a faint smile.

‘That’s… a beautiful painting. Or, rather, it’s shaping up to be one.’ 

‘Thank you, but I think you’ll find it’s middling at best. My skills are not yet at the level that I would like,’ she says without looking at him.

‘Oh, I don’t think so. Although, I suppose my knowledge of art is extremely limited.’ 

She nods slightly in acknowledgement, but keeps painting. He feels silly standing like this. ‘Would you mind if I took a seat? If you’d rather left you alone, please do say so.’

‘Feel free, as long as you don’t mind sitting on the grass,’ she says.

He settles on the ground, readjusting his legs a few times until he’s satisfied with the propriety of his position. It hardly matters though, as El’s focus is still entirely on her painting. It’s peaceful, though- the cool spring breeze on his face and the sound of the wind whistling through the trees. This is exactly the life he had dreamed of for himself, when he was at his lowest. After a few moments of easy silence, El cranes her neck to look back at him.

‘Did you get your chickens back safely?’

‘Ah, yes. That’s what I came here to tell you about, actually.’ He pauses, trying to remember the version of the story he’d laid out in his head. Her pale eyes, paler still in the glare of the midday sun, are fixed on him. He’s forgotten everything he planned earlier. 

‘Well, the boy, his name is Ashe. H- he lives in.. the village… somewhere to the east…?’

El’s neutral, curious expression hasn’t changed, but he can tell he’s blabbering. He needs to get to the interesting point.

‘Ah, he took those hens because his family is very poor. Dedue followed him back to his house, and saw the proof with his own eyes. It’s terrible, really. So, we agreed to bring him some food every week or so. It seems they’ve become friends, in fact. A happy ending after all.’ He winces as he hears the words leave his mouth. That was painful. 

El elegantly shifts herself away from her painting, angling herself towards him.

‘And no one has tried to help them before? Beside yourself and Dedue, I mean.’ Her tone is serious, and she’s frowning. _Is she upset that we aren’t doing more for him?_

‘Yes, that seems to be the case.’

El fixes her eyes to the ground, her brow furrowed. Though the governance of the region is slowly shifting towards a more democratic approach, there’s still terrible poverty in every corner of Fodlan. Ashe’s situation is sad, but not unexpected. 

‘I have been writing letters to the governor, urging him to open a soup kitchen, or to at least provide some funds for families in need. I knew he was ignoring all of my requests. It shouldn’t fall to you two to help feed them, when I’m sure you barely have enough to feed yourselves.’

 _Oh. She’s passionate about this._ Dimitri leans forward, finding himself growing almost giddy at the discovery that she shares the same anger he does. This is what he disliked about kinghood- no one around him shared that empathy. It took two whole generations of rulers to usher in the democracy that Faerghus is now enjoying. Their area is unusual in that it falls outside of all three countries, although it’s closest to the Alliance. He knows that the radical changes their Duke is currently carrying out will eventually have a knock-on effect here, but he doesn’t know when.

‘I completely agree, El. It’s disgraceful. Men like that only care about lining their own pockets.’

El sighs. 

‘It’s all well and good that the big cities are working towards a people-led government, but we are being left behind. Families like Ashe’s may never know safety and comfort.’

‘I have hope that those changes will take place here sooner than you might expect. People will always push for better circumstances, for themselves and their neighbours.’

El shakes her head. 

‘You underestimate how greedy those nobles are. They’ll use their power to keep the people under their thumb until their dying breath.’ 

Dimitri has a brief flashback to wartime negotiations in the Adrestrian throne room. Though the Empress’ tone and demeanour was always soft and measured- sometimes unsettlingly so- she held very similar views to El. In fact, her hair was a similar shade of silver, now that he thinks about it. Apparently her mother was of Duscur descent. 

‘You’re right, of course. But I don’t think you should underestimate the people in this village. I’m sure they’ll rally to action when the time is right.’

El places her paintbrush down in anger. 

‘Poverty has been an issue here since the inception of this village, and nothing has been done about it. Frankly, I think you have your head in the clouds.’

Now it’s Dimitri’s turn to frown- his pride has been bruised.

‘I _do not_ have my head in the clouds! It is obvious that the people of this village haven’t been made aware of the issue yet.’

El shoots him a withering look, not even humouring him with a response. She has a point. There’s simply no way they don’t know about it. He still believes that all they need is a rally cry to get them going, but he doesn’t want to start a full-fledged argument with her. He takes a deep breath and calms himself down. 

‘Still, you are correct in a lot of respects, El. Would you mind sharing the writing address of the governor with me? I’d like to join you in writing to him about the fair provision of food.’

‘Of course,’ she says, with all the grace and fair temperament of a noble. Regardless of how her views differ from his own, he has to admit that she's a skilled debater.

‘If you’ll accompany me to my house, I’ll give it to you at the door.’

If Dimitri didn’t know any better, he’d almost think that sounded like an invitation.

\--


	8. Chapter 8

He follows El back to her house. Patricia is sitting in their front garden, dyeing some wool. She excitedly exclaims his name when she spots him.

‘Dima! What brings you here?’

‘I’m giving him something, mother,’ El says promptly, not allowing him a chance to respond. She shoots him a stern look and then disappears into the house.

‘You _must_ stay for dinner. It’s cooling now, and I just happened to make too much, which means there’s just enough for you!’

Dimitri laughs awkwardly and tries to draw out his answer. He’s not the best at reading non-verbal gestures, but even he knows that El wasn’t too keen on him chatting to her mother, nevermind agreeing to stay for dinner. She probably wants to get him out of her hair already. 

El comes back swiftly, much to his delight- he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold Patricia off for. She looks at her daughter and smiles pointedly.

‘I was just saying how lovely it would be if Dima were to join us for dinner, El.’

To his surprise, El keeps her expression neutral. 

‘I don’t mind. Here’s the address, Dima.’

He accepts it and tucks it into his pocket, before he’s ushered inside. Their house is perfect- cosy and warm, filled to the brim with knick-knacks but still not cluttered at all. The food smells good, too. 

He takes his place at the table, and dinner begins. Conversation flows steadily, and though the conversation topics are hardly riveting, it’s pleasant enough. El even joins in fairly regularly. He stays for dessert, and then for tea. Before he leaves, he remembers to ask something that had been on his mind for some time.

‘By the way, myself and Dedue are heading to the market in Innsfield tomorrow. Is there anything you need?’ he says, addressing the question to the whole family. 

‘Yes,’ El says after a moment of thinking, and then hastily scribbles something down in a notebook. She rips the page out and hands it to him. The note reads: _Enbarr- The Forgotten History of The Imperial Capital._ A lofty title and her handwriting is similarly impressive; pretty, accurate cursive. He honestly has no idea how El learned to read and write to this standard in a village like this. He knows that her mother and uncle came here from a fairly large town outside of Enbarr, which does explain her Adrestrian accent, but it’s fairly rare for common people from any sized town to be able to parse literature as complex as this. It’s strange but intriguing. 

He tucks her note away into his pocket, alongside her earlier one. 

‘I’ll try to find it for you.’


	9. Chapter 9

After a long day of travel, Dimitri makes himself comfortable in their new armchair. Their trip to the market was pleasantly uneventful; they stocked up on things that they can’t find in the village, and he found El’s book with no issue. He dropped it off at her house on their way back. She seemed to be in fine spirits, and even gave him a smile when she accepted it. She must really enjoy reading, and he can only imagine how hard it is to come by books like that in a place like this. A mental image of her appears to him then, holed up in her room, excitedly flicking through the pages of her new book. He smiles.

He also… found a book for himself. He bought it when Dedue wasn’t looking, and just holding it in his hands makes his face feel warm, even though it’s still encased in a brown paper envelope. 

He can hardly even admit it to himself.

He’s interested in El. Romantically. The only issue is that he has absolutely no experience in this realm. He’s had his fair share of crushes, and he did have a short fling during his time in the academy. In that case, though _, he_ was the one that was seduced, and not the other way around. Plus, his partner was a man, which means his current situation does pose some… technical challenges, that he has no idea how to approach. Which is why, on a whim, he decided to purchase _The Art of Seduction._ Sylvain did recommend it to him, once upon a time, and he’s inclined to take his advice on these matters, given his apparent success. 

He clears his throat, takes a deep breath, and slips the book out of the envelope. Even though he’s alone in their living room, even just the thought of reading this is putting him on edge.

He slowly pulls it out of the envelope and looks at the cover.

_Enbarr- The Forgotten History of The Imperial Capital._

He snaps his head up and leaps out of the chair as if the bottom had just caught fire. He gave her the wrong book. He sprints towards the door, knocking over a chair on his way there. He keeps on running the whole way to her house, the book tucked under his arm and knocks on the door without giving himself a pause to catch his breath. The wait is excruciating. What is he going to do if Patricia opens the door?! He’s too flustered to come up with an excuse, so he tries to think through the situation to calm himself down. It’s been about three hours since he gave her the book. There’s a good chance she hasn’t even opened the package yet, much less begun to read it. He hopes.

He holds his breath as he hears footsteps coming from inside the house. To his relief, it’s El who opens the door. He feels a wash of calm upon seeing her, but very quickly feels all of the blood in his body rush to his face when he remembers exactly the situation that he’s in. He takes a proper look at her. She has a book in her hand, and she’s scowling. He swallows and finds that his mouth is entirely dry. 

Before he can scramble together an excuse, El has stepped out of the house and shut the door behind her. She takes a few steps away from the entry, and he follows her until they’re far enough away that no one will hear the conversation that’s about to unfold. 

He opens his mouth to talk, but no words will come out.

 _'You_ ,’ she starts, glaring at him with her arms crossed over her chest, ‘are a _filthy_ _pervert_.’ She lowers her voice to a sharp whisper to deliver those last few words, and Dimitri feels the sting of the accusation slap him across the face. 

‘E-El, it was a m-mistake. I have your book here-’

‘Just what are you trying to do?’ she asks, choosing to completely ignore the book he’s holding out for her to take. Dimitri looks at the ground and takes a deep breath before attempting to respond to her.

‘I bought it for myself… I’m so sorry. I really, really didn’t intend for this to happen. If you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.’

El’s frown deepens. She steps closer to him. ‘How am I supposed to believe that?’

‘I-- it-- it was a simple mistake, El. I swear, I wasn’t trying to, um, seduce you.’ Saying that sentence aloud is truly, deeply mortifying. Dimitri almost wishes he was back in Fhirdiad, in a stuffy room full of nobles, discussing the benefits of increasing taxes. Almost. 

‘Then why would you even want to read this in the first place?’ she asks, venom in her voice. Before he has a chance to respond, she raises her arm and throws the book straight at him. Dimitri’s reflexes are still sharp, and he manages to catch it before it hits him in the chest. At least she didn’t seem to be aiming for his face.

‘Th-that’s a personal choice, El. I can read whatever I like in my own time… I just wish I hadn’t ended up involving you. This is truly the most shameful thing that has ever happened to me.’

El says nothing but keeps her eyes fixed on him. He glances at the book in his right hand, the one that was intended for her. 

‘Do you...still want this?’ he asks, reaching out to hand it to her. El moves forward and snatches it out of his hand, before turning her back on him and storming towards her house. Dimitri feels his stomach drop as he watches her go.

He trudges back to the house, the mortification and shame of what has just transpired washing over him. He walks into his bedroom, sinks onto the bed, and throws the ill-fated book against the wall in an outburst of frustration. It lands page-up, lying open on the floor. Dimitri eyes the wall to ensure that he didn’t make a hole in it- there is a dent, but it’s nothing that he can’t fix. Something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. On the book lies a dainty bookmark-- a small slip of decorative paper with dried flowers pressed into it. He checks how far it was inserted in the book, and sees that it’s been sitting between the pages 202 and 203. 

El read it. She read over _200 pages_ of it, in _three hours_ , and bookmarked it to come back to later. 

He feels a sudden and inescapable urge to lie down.


	10. Chapter 10

‘Edelgard?’ her uncle calls from the kitchen. She sets aside her book.

‘Yes?’

‘I passed by Dimitri and Dedue this morning. They’ve bought themselves a cow, but it looks like they have no idea what to do with the poor thing. Why don’t you drop by on your way with the sheep to give them a hand?’

‘No.’ The words have left her mouth before she even had time to think about it, so visceral was her reaction.

‘Why? You two were getting along so well at dinner last week. What on earth happened in the last week to cause such a shift in tone?’

 _Shit._ She didn’t mean to sound so snappy. She has to think of a lie, and quickly, because there’s no way she’s telling him what actually happened.

‘I.. don’t like cows…’ she winces internally as soon as the words leave her lips. _What kind of horrible excuse was that?_

Her uncle begins to laugh. Damn it. 

‘Oh El, you’re so very strange sometimes.’ 

He passes by her to go towards the back door, giving her a pat on the back as he goes.

‘Please do help them. Tell them they can graze it on the far field. Your mother keeps reminding me that we owe them a favour after they helped to fix that window.’

And with that, he’s gone. El sighs. She glances out the window. It’s a beautiful sunny day, exactly the kind of day where she would normally busy herself with farmwork and then settle under a tree to read. But for the past week, she just hasn’t felt like herself. She tries to chase away the thoughts of Dima and the awful book debacle, and she can’t shake it. She regrets reading it, more than anything. Now she’s kept awake until late at night thinking about it, replaying sections from it over and over in her head. She knows he must have seen the bookmark. There’s no way he hasn’t. _God, how could I be so stupid?_

At first, she thought it had traumatized her. Now it’s slowly sinking in that her interest in what she read is rooted in… something else entirely. Something far less dark, but something that makes her feel much more perverse. She’s always believed that people should feel free to express their attractions and desires. But now that it’s her own desires under examination, she wants nothing more than to lock them away and throw away the key. 

Still, she knew this was inevitable. She had done well to avoid him so far-- it involved a lot of oddly timed walks and staring at the ground as she passed their house. But she knew there was no way to keep it up forever. She heads back to her room to dress, and to draft her plan. 

It’s probably best to just pretend it never happened, though she has a feeling Dima will make that difficult for her. He’s almost impulsively honest, unable to tell even the whitest of lies, and constantly apologizing for the slightest of misdeeds. She can only hope that Dedue will be there- he seems less prone to embarrassing both himself and her when he’s close by.

She makes her way towards their cottage, trying her best to spot them before they can spot her. Thankfully, that isn’t hard- Dedue is sitting on a stool beneath a rather young looking cow, and Dima is clinging to her in an effort to coax her into not kicking Dedue’s teeth out as he tries to milk her. It looks like a disaster waiting to happen. She quickens her pace; mortified as she may be, she definitely wouldn’t want any harm to befall Dedue. 

Neither of them even notice her as she makes her way into the garden, so focused are they on keeping the poor cow from running away. 

‘Let me show you how to do it.’

Dima practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of her voice. Dedue shoots her a grateful look and quickly jumps off the stool to make room for her. 

‘E- El, I didn’t see you there…’

She ignores him, sighing to herself as she takes up her position. 

‘Watch me. You don’t need to hold her like that. Just tethering her to that stake should be enough.’ 

She takes a look at the cow’s udders and sees that they’re covered in mud. It’s not unusual, but you need to clean it off before proceeding. Clearly they knew this as there’s a damp cloth lying in a basin by the stool. She picks it up and begins to wipe her down. Once she’s satisfied, she begins milking her. She’s a gentle cow and responds well- it doesn’t take long until there’s a full bucket of fresh milk by her side. She looks up at Dima and Dedue and finds them staring so intently at her that you would think she had just carried out a complicated medical operation, and is about to ask them to do the same.

‘You just need to be gentle.’ She tells them. 

‘Animals do not like me.’ says Dedue, his face grave. Dima is uncharacteristically silent.

‘They do. You just need to know how to treat them.’ She steps up and gestures for Dedue to sit down again. He does so, his tall form hunched over so that he can reach that low. She bends down next to him and observes his hands, and finds he’s doing everything correctly.

‘You’re doing fine. You must have just been nervous. And the fact she was being manhandled didn’t help.’ She doesn’t look at Dima, but she can see him shift from one foot to the other at that jab.

She coaches Dedue through the rest of the process and finds no issues with his technique.

‘Th-thank you, El,’ says Dima, his nervousness evident in his voice. She decides not to respond.

‘Where are you going to graze her?’ she asks, not to either of them in particular, keeping her gaze fixed on the field in front of them.

‘Um, I thought just here would be fine.’

She scoffs. Their land barely spans an acre, and about half of it is now occupied with crops that the cow would surely munch through in a day or two. They don’t really have any farmland, which is probably how they got the cottage for such a cheap price.

‘She’ll have all your grass and vegetables gone in two days.’ She finally looks at Dima and finds his face drawn in a grave expression. Does she really have to spell _everything_ out for him?

‘You can graze her on our southernmost field. There’s an old barn there too.’

‘That’s… so generous of you. Thank you so much. If it’s not too much to ask, could you show us where it is? I’m sure Dedue would be happy to follow you.’ says Dima. El is a little surprised that he’s as eager to get away from her as she is from him.

Just as she’s about to agree, their decoy is interrupted by a knock on the door. Dedue snaps to attention, and hurriedly excuses himself.

‘I’m afraid I have business that I must attend to now.’ 

Edelgard feels her heart drop into her stomach as she watches him leave. She and Dima both stand in dumbfounded silence, looking over the fence to see where he’s going. Sure enough, the grey-haired chicken stealer comes into view. He and Dedue walk down the road side by side. The boy- Ashe, she thinks Dimitri said his name was- is chatting excitedly with an armful of groceries, and Dedue is smiling. That’s not something she sees often.

She wants to begrudge him for leaving her like this, but she can’t. She’ll just begrudge Dima instead, for all of the headaches he’s caused for her in the short span of time he’s been in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry if this isn't an accurate descrpition of milking a cow


	11. Chapter 11

Dimitri watches in disbelief as Dedue slips away from his line of sight. _How could he do this to me?_ He sighs. There’s no point in trying to keep up pretenses at this point.

‘You don’t have to show me where it is,’ he says. It’s so quiet between them that he can hear Edelgard sharply inhale. 

‘And trust you to find it?’

He almost wants to roll his eyes. He’s not confident in his abilities whatsoever, but of course he’d be able to find a nearby _field_ , especially one with an identifier like a barn. Still, he supposes he deserves it. He will probably never forgive himself for what happened, and if El were a worse person, she could hold this over his head for the rest of his life. 

In truth, he’d been expecting an angry knock at the door from Patricia or Volkhardt every night for the past week. The fact that she’s here now is very reassuring. Her words can be harsh, but she must be an angel to keep such an event to herself, instead of trying to humiliate him in retaliation. It only makes him feel more attracted to her, and he hates himself for it.

‘I… I’ll do whatever you want.’

About a minute passes with no response from El. He finally steals a glance at her and notices that she’s biting her lip. He swallows. 

‘Follow me.’

She moves fast in spite of her short legs, and Dimitri has to scramble to unhook Daisy’s halter to follow after her. He tries to quicken his pace to catch up, but Daisy’s gate doesn’t extend past a slow plod, so he just has to trail behind her. The weather is beautiful, and El has dressed appropriately for it; she’s wearing a long, white linen dress, tight on the bodice but with a loose and flowy skirt. She’s so beautiful he can hardly look at her. 

She leads him past her house and through a wooded area, and then out into a field. It’s empty save for a small, dilapidated looking barn in the far left corner. He definitely could have found this by himself. 

‘She can sleep in there. Our cow sleeps there too, so she won’t be lonely.’

God. He never realized she had such a soft spot for animals. She’s unbearably cute. 

‘Thank you so mu--’ A loud clap of thunder interrupts his sentence. The sudden bang makes his heart race. 

‘Shit.’ El says, raising her palm into the air. Dimitri has never heard her curse before. Next comes the lightning, a bright flash that doesn’t appear to be all that far away. Then comes the rain. Heavy, and completely out of nowhere, as if the heavens had suddenly opened up. They’re drenched within seconds. 

El has started to run towards the barn. Dimitri tries to follow suit, but Daisy is grazing as though she isn’t soaking too.

‘Come on, girl…’ Dimitri tries to coax her with some soft words of encouragement, but she won’t budge. He’s wearing white too, a loose cotton blouse, and he can feel it clinging to his skin. He glances down at himself. The shirt has gone entirely see-through, and his whole upper body is fully visible. 

He thinks, momentarily, that he may as well just stay outside. A second flash of lightning, even closer than the last, quickly turns him off the idea. He gives Daisy’s bridle one last pleading tug, but she doesn’t budge. He could pick her up and carry her, but he doesn’t know how well that would go down with El as a witness. There’s a high, sheltering hedge nearby, so he can only hope she’ll opt to stand there in time.

He runs towards the barn and finds El huddled in the furthest corner. He settles himself in the opposite corner, but there’s still only about one metre between them. 

El is pointedly not looking at him. She’s staring out at the field in front of them, her jaw clenched tight. His eyes wander down lower despite his best efforts. Her skirt is layered enough that the rain hasn’t rendered it see-through, but her bodice wasn’t quite so fortunate. His face instantly heats up when he realizes what he’s seeing; the pale skin of her upper body, fully visible beneath the pale veil that her dress has become. 

She’s crossing her arms tightly across her chest. Dimitri snaps his head away when he realizes the implications of that gesture.

 _Why do things like this keep happening?_ He inhales deeply and finds that his exhale comes out shakily. He cannot, under any circumstances, think about how her breasts might look at this moment in time. He glances again. Her hands are cupped directly over them. She must not have a… second layer of protection under her dress. God. 

He can feel El’s gaze on him too, multiple brief glances. He guesses she’s hoping that he won’t notice. She’s probably watching him because she noticed him ogling her earlier; at any rate, there’s no chance that it’s out of any kind of attraction. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he’s grateful for the sound of the rain pounding on the iron roof above their heads. Otherwise, the silence would be deafening.

He catches a sudden flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and turns to face El. 

She is standing, facing him, her bodice unbuttoned down to her waist, her breasts fully exposed to him. He’s frozen in shock. She’s red in the face, and frowning at him.

‘Will you just get it over with already?!’ she all but shouts at him, her voice cracking in desperation. Dimitri can hardly think for the sound of blood rushing in his ears. She sounds furious, but she’s doing… that. What on earth does she want here?

 _‘_ G-get it over with? What do you mean?’ 

‘You’ve been ogling me this entire time! God- just- you’re awful!’ She looks like she’s on the verge of tearing her hair out- or maybe _his_ hair out. Dimitri is shaking from head to toe, trying to pry his eyes away from her chest but they just keep falling down there anyway. They’re so perfect, two perfect handfuls, and her nipples are the colour of rosebuds.

‘I- we- don’t have to do this!! I’m sorry!’ His mouth is dry and he can hardly string a sentence together. He’s panicking.

‘We do! I can’t stand this tension anymore!’ She steps closer to him, and he feels like he’s about to catch fire. She’s trying to look him in the eye, but he can’t meet her gaze. 

‘D-do you… actually want to…?’ he half-whispers, finally daring to look down at her. This is all happening so fast. She’s so close to him, and his heartbeat continues to thunder in his ears. El’s brow is furrowed, and she’s staring at him with incredible intensity, though he can’t read the emotion in her eyes.

After a moment of stillness, El reaches her arms up, settles them around his neck, and roughly pulls him down to kiss her. Dimitri stands with his arms stiffly hovering near her waist, too flustered to figure out where to put his hands. Her mouth is so warm and soft, but her kiss is a little rough, sometimes clashing her teeth against his. He can wager that she’s a beginner too, but that does nothing to quell his anxious heart. He’s so nervous that he's shaking, and he has to take a moment to calm himself down.

_I’ve done this before. I can do this._

He slowly and steadily places his hands on her waist. She’s so petite, he’s worried that if he loses control of himself for even a second he could really hurt her. Still, he’s surprised by how… _sturdy_ she is, despite her small frame. Her arms are muscular and strong, and she has considerable force behind her touch- he’s not sure he could easily pull away from her even if he wanted to. He meets her tongue with his to open the kiss and hears a low moan in the back of El’s throat. 

He traces circles on her waist with his thumbs, using the small motions to ground himself. They stay like that for a few moments, their kiss gradually growing more breathless, and more desperate. El is on her tippy-toes, the fingers of her left hand entwined roughly in Dimitri’s hair, her right hand pulling hard on the collar of his still-soaked blouse. He wants to pull her in closer, to touch and kiss up and down her body. But he keeps drawing tiny circles on her waist, so scared of hurting her.

His attempts at gentle touch are soon thwarted when El abruptly pulls away and begins to push him towards the wall. The surprising strength behind her push means he starts to step backwards without even really registering what’s happening. Once satisfied with his position, El gives him a hard push, and before he realizes what’s going on, he’s sitting on a bale of hay on the ground. El is above him, her legs spread so that her knees are positioned on either side of his waist. Her breasts are at eye level now, and he can feel the heat of her body in his lap. He can’t control himself any longer. 

He places one hand on her upper back to press her close to him, balancing the weight of her torso on his shoulder. El’s fingers find their place in his hair again, twisting hard as if in anticipation of what’s about to come. He cups one of her breasts and begins to suck. 

El yelps and jumps almost as soon as he makes contact. He instantly pulls back, his heart pounding. How has he managed to hurt her doing _this,_ of all things?

‘Are you alright?!’ he asks. She pauses for a moment to catch her breath before answering

‘‘Y-yes… I think so.’ Her voice is shaky; he’s not convinced. 

‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-’

‘It’s not you, I think...um, I seem to be very sensitive...right there...’

He’d read about this. Not everyone gets the same satisfaction from having their breasts stimulated. Still, he can’t believe he’s managed to hurt her already. Maybe this is doomed to fail.

‘We can do something else.’ He says, though he has no idea what.

‘No, keep going. I want to know how it feels.’

‘A-are you sure? You seemed to be in pain…’

‘I was, sort of. It wasn’t unpleasant, though. Let’s keep going.’

He reluctantly returns to his previous spot and begins to gently circle her nipple with his tongue, licking and sucking, all the while watching El for signs of discomfort. Her moan is so high pitched and loud-- it really does sound like she’s in pain, but every time he pulls away she presses him back down.

He decides to try using his fingers instead, circling and flicking it. The sudden change in temperature and pressure elicits a gasp from El. This is good. She still yelps on occasion, but he can tell she’s getting a lot of pleasure from it. He starts to gently kiss her other breast, before eventually taking it entirely in his mouth.

El gasps his nickname, and that sound sends shivers down his spine. Everything is so hot and wet between them, their damp clothes still clinging to their skin. El starts to lower himself in his lap, tentatively at first and then all at once, until she’s grinding down onto his erection. Dimitri lets out an undignified noise and grasps at the hay below to keep from squeezing her too tightly instead. If her moans are any indication, she’s enjoying this new source of friction, as she continues to press herself hard against him. 

‘Don’t stop...’ she says, and he realizes then that he has been neglecting her breasts for some time. He takes them back in his hands, lapping at each nipple until they fall into a rhythm, his hips rising to meet hers in time. He feels like he’s spinning. If they keep going like this, he’s definitely going to orgasm, and they haven’t even taken their clothes off yet.

As if on cue El forces his hands off her, and rolls onto her back so that she’s lying next to him. He turns on his side to look at her, trying to figure out what she wants him to do. She stares at him, then pulls up her skirt, then pushes her underwear to one side. Dimitri inhales sharply. 

‘What… do you want me to do…?’ he asks, aware that it probably sounds ridiculous. She visibly winces as soon as the question leaves his mouth.

‘Don’t make me say it…’

‘Uh, El, I’m sorry, I just really don’t want to--’

‘With your mouth, I mean, just-- lick it.’ Her voice is uncharacteristically high-pitched and girlish and Oh God, that sounds so _dirty_ coming out of her mouth. It turns him on more than he’d like to admit. Her scandalized reaction to accidentally receiving his book had convinced him that she was a very innocent kind of girl; it seems he may have thought wrong.

He nods and lowers himself between her thighs, pushing her skirt a little further up until her lower belly is exposed too. Her inner thighs are soft and quivering, likely from the strain their last position put her under. She is so, so cute. He steals a glance at her pussy, and finds that it’s the same pink colour as her nipples. He has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, but he finds himself hardly able to keep his tongue in his mouth. Still, he kisses and massages her thighs for a moment or two, more to calm himself down than anything.

El grows tired of his teasing and grabs a handful of his hair, lifting her legs onto his shoulders. He groans and envelops her in his mouth, wishing he could taste her but finding that her smell is enough to make him throb through his trousers. He tries to recall what that book said about this; he knows there’s a particular area he should be focusing on, but that’s about all he can remember. He experimentally licks her up and down, tracking her reactions until he finds it- the little bud above her opening. 

El is seemingly in ecstasy once he figures her out. Her thighs are clamped tightly around his neck, and she’s using her hands to press his face closer and closer against her. In truth, it’s a little hard to breathe, but he doesn’t care. Nothing could be better than this. He’s almost certain she’s orgasmed two or three times now, given the volume of her moans and the way her entire body shakes when her pleasure becomes too much to bear.

Eventually, she loosens her grip, and Dimitri takes it as a sign that she’s had enough. She looks exhausted; her lips and cheeks are coloured a deep red, and her eyes are glassy. He’s incredibly hard, to the point where he thinks he’ll struggle to walk all the way back to the cottage-- but he’s not going to ask her to do anything for him. He lies beside her and feels his skin itching with desire to reach out and hold her, but he has a feeling any such act of affection wouldn’t go down well with her.

‘What are you waiting for?’ She whispers after some time. 

‘What do you mean…?’

‘I’m all wet now, so it should be fine for you to… um… put it inside me.’

Dimitri’s stomach lurches, half in arousal and half in shock. God, surely she doesn’t really want him to do that. Eating her out was risky, but ultimately danger-free. But taking her virginity? In a _barn?_

Unless she’s not a virgin. He has no idea, actually. But either way, they could run the risk of making a very grave mistake. And though she doesn’t realize it, there’s a real chance that he could badly hurt her. Plus, what if someone sees them? He knows they could have been caught earlier, but the thought of someone catching him doing _that_ to her seems so much worse.

‘We can’t do that,’ he whispers.

‘Why not?’ she asks incredulously. Dimitri is shocked.

‘God, El, this is… you could get _pregnant_! And I could end up hurting you...I’ve never really done this before. Not with a girl. It’s different.’

She looks pensive for a moment. He’s glad she’s at least considering his concerns.

‘I won’t get pregnant.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I know a little faith magic. I made some emergency tea and left it in your house.’

‘What…?’ 

‘I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself, Dima. I couldn’t stop fantasizing about it. So I decided to make it ahead of time in case the worst happens, since you need to drink it within twenty-four hours, and the ingredients are hard to get. I left it in your pantry last week when you and Dedue weren’t home.’

He doesn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified by her pragmatism.

‘B-but…what if I...’ 

‘Just be gentle and it’ll be fine, okay?’

Her voice is sweet and encouraging. She’s never spoken to him like that before, and it almost makes him want to cry. He slowly shifts his position so that he’s on top of her, and she spreads her legs. _God_. There is no chance of explaining his way out of this if they happen to be caught. 

He unbuttons his trousers with a shaky hand, opting to keep them on his body as much as possible. He’s so scared of hurting her, but he’s also so aroused that he can hardly think straight. He realizes he’s been frozen in place when El’s fingers grasp his cock. He gasps but allows her to guide his head to her entrance. She’s so tiny, how is he going to fit inside of her?

‘Just tell me if it’s too much, okay?’ he whispers, pleading with her. She nods. He pushes in, so slowly and carefully, and watches her face contort. He can’t tell if it’s out of pain or pleasure, but he has a feeling it’s a mixture of both. She’s so, so warm and tight, and even if he’s only a quarter of the way in, it’s easily the most pleasurable thing he’s felt in years. 

‘That’s enough,’ El gasps once he’s about halfway inside. He swallows.

‘Do you want me to…’

‘You can, but don’t push yourself in any further than that.’

That’s not an easy command given his disoriented state, but it hardly matters. After about five half-thrusts he’s hunched up over her, having the most intense orgasm of his life. He chokes out her name, and then everything goes white. 

It’s embarrassing, how fast he came, and he’s sure that the noises he made were even worse. He’s certain he could go for another round, but he doesn’t want to do that. More than anything, he would love to cuddle, but he knows there’s no chance of that. He pulls out and immediately feels cold. 

‘That was fast.’ El remarks.

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’

They lie there for a few moments, not touching one another. Then El stands, wipes the cum that’s dripping down her thighs away with her panties, and discards them in the corner of the barn. 

He’s going to have to come back for those later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh this turned out so long. i hope everyone is keeping well!! i promise no cows were harmed in the making of this, i was gonna have her follow them into the barn but i feel like that would have been very strange and uncomfortable. i promise daisy will have her time in the sun


	12. Chapter 12

It’s only an hour after sunrise, but Edelgard is already outside of Dima’s window, fully dressed and coiffed. She raises a fisted hand and begins rapping on the windowpane. She keeps going until she hears a shuffling on the other side. 

The curtains are pulled back, and now she’s face to face with him again. She feels her cheeks heating up as the memories of yesterday come flooding back, but she keeps her gaze sharp.

‘Dima.’

He blinks a few times and then looks a little more awake. He opens the window to speak to her, but Edelgard is impatient. He’s slow at the best of times, so she can only imagine how long it will take for him to realize that he should go around and open the front door and let her in. 

Before he can get any closer she decides to squeeze her entire body through the tiny opening of the window. It’s difficult, and painful, but after some maneuvering she’s standing upright in his bedroom. 

It feels intimate, to see his living space like this, despite the fact that they were… much more intimate less than a day ago. Dima seems to be staring at her in stunned silence.

‘I need that tea,’ she says. That snaps him to attention, and he makes for the door.

‘I’ll go wake Dedue up right away--’ 

she reaches for his forearm before he makes his getaway, using some force so as to pull him closer to her. She has no idea where this boldness is coming from, but she’s quickly learning not to question it. ‘I want to do it again first,’ she says.

‘Y-you mean here? Now?’

She nods, and pulls him back towards the bed, before flopping down onto it. He’s staring down at her, seemingly taking a moment to process the situation. His pillow is plush, and it smells so strongly of him that she’s throbbing before he’s even touched her. 

She wants him again so badly that she could hardly sleep last night. Finally, he lowers himself beside her and softly places a hand on her waist. That small touch combined with how close he is now is enough to make her moan, and she wraps her arms around his neck to draw him in for a kiss. 

She really doesn’t recognize herself in these situations- it’s as though her body overrides her common sense. She follows by wrapping her legs around Dima’s waist, and he responds in turn by moaning and deepening their kiss. 

She doesn’t even know what she wants out of this- she didn’t think that far ahead. His hand slipping between her legs is a sharp reminder of yesterday’s events, of how amazing his tongue felt against her. Yes, she wants to do that again. She has a feeling she could do that every day and never get tired of it.

His fingers brush against her clit through her panties, and she hurriedly lifts her legs up from the bed to do away with them entirely. She is _really_ impatient. 

Dima reassumes his position. His hands are so strong, and she can tell he’s trying his hardest to be gentle, but his touch is sometimes too rough and inaccurate to be pleasurable. She doesn’t mind, though- he’s a beginner too, and what he can’t do with his hands he can certainly do with his tongue. 

She plants her hands on his shoulders, which causes him to stop kissing her and look up. 

‘Can you do what you did yesterday?’ she asks. She knows the actual terminology, but… it’s embarrassing to say it out loud. Especially to Dima. He’s bound to go red in the face, too. 

‘Um… which part?’

‘Uh… both. In the same order.’

He nods and slips down to the foot of the bed. He places his hands on her thighs again, then slowly pulls them apart. She feels her hips bucking up at the new exposure, at how close he is. 

It’s embarrassing how desperate she is for this. She bends her legs at the knees and rests her calves on his shoulders. Dima wastes no time, spreading her out fully with his fingers while circling near her clit with his tongue. 

It’s too much, feels too good- she grasps at his hair and winds the first clump that her hands land on tightly around her fingers, pulling hard to keep herself from crying out. 

She recognizes his technique from the book- he seems to have committed it to memory and is now following it to a T. He’s careful not to neglect any area, carefully spacing out how often he teases her clit, and watching her constantly to gauge her reactions. 

One thing that wasn’t recommended in the book, though, is to inhale as deeply as you can every few minutes. She doesn’t really understand why he does that, but she doesn’t have the wherewithal to question it. Her tension is building, and she’s almost certain she’s going to come soon.

Dima stares up at her, almost in veneration, and kisses her clit. She orgasms so quickly that she hardly realizes what is happening until it’s over. Her inner thighs are quivering so much that she has to let them lie flat on the bed. 

Dima is still hovering near her, waiting to see if she wants to go for another round. Her body suddenly feels like lead- the lack of sleep she got last night is hitting her all at once. She shakes her head in Dima’s general direction and lets her eyes flutter shut. Dima pulls himself up and above her, and she can feel his face just centimetres away from her own.

‘Do you still want to…?’

Edelgard lazily opens one eye to look at him, then lets it fall shut again.

‘Yes...’

‘A-are you sure? If you’re too tired, we can-’

‘I want to do it again, but...’ she murmurs, and she can feel the warmth of Dima’s cheek next to hers, his soft skin with a little bit of stubble. A warm feeling blooms in her chest. She’s going to want this again and again. She wraps her arms around his neck to keep him close.

She hears a soundless laugh and feels his warm breath on her face.

‘Maybe we can save it for another day, then.’

She smiles and nods, satisfied with that promise, and slips under his duvet. When she wakes up, Dima is lying by her side, his head buried in the crook of her neck.


	13. Chapter 13

Dimitri tried his best to bring as little of Fhirdiad as possible with him to his new home. He took no ornaments or fineries; just some clothes and a few books. 

There is, however, a drawer in his room that contains some items of sentimental value. A letter from his father, a small portrait of his mother. He looks at them often, and each time he feels he’s managed to parse another small part of his past suffering.

There’s something else there too. A velvet pouch, and inside it his mother and father’s wedding and engagement rings. _Just in case,_ he told himself at the time. After he arrived he became embarrassed at how ambitious it was to take even one of the sets, never mind both of them. 

Now, as he examines his mother’s engagement ring, he’s quite grateful to his past self. It’s a beautiful ring, a solid gold band cast with tiny knots and twigs around it, an imitation of a hawthorn tree. In the centre sits a large grey diamond; El is sure to ask him how he obtained something with such an expensive diamond, but it’s either this or nothing, and he’s certain that it's preferable to the latter.

He doesn’t have a presentation box for it, so he simply slips the pouch into his pocket and sets out. He sighs as he steps outside. Truthfully, this is not how he ever imagined he might propose to someone, and he’s not as excited as he thought he would be. 

He’s smitten with her, he’s been intimate with her, but all things considered, he hardly knows her. They seem to get along better now, but just a week ago she called him a _filthy pervert._ He can still recount how those words sounded in her voice. Sometimes they come to him when he’s just about to fall asleep, and they never fail to wake him right back up again.

Their encounter yesterday is so fresh in his mind that he swears he can still feel her small hands tracing circles on his forearm. He wants to feel that again. She smiled when he told her that they could lay together once more, so surely she’s expecting this. He hasn’t even asked her parents yet, but he figured making it clear to El that he isn't just using her to satisfy his base desires is a more pressing issue. 

Sure enough, she is waiting for him under the large oak tree that faces their house from the field. He waves at her as he approaches, and she waves back. This gesture of friendliness is unprecedented, and a clear indicator that she’s waiting for his proposal.

‘El,’ he says when he reaches her, finding her even more pretty under the dappled sunlight. 

Hello,’ is all she says, and she doesn’t quite meet his eye as she speaks. She must be nervous. He notices that there’s a basket by her feet. A celebratory picnic, maybe? 

Well, if she’s nervous, he supposes he should probably get it over with as quickly as possible. He gets on one knee in front of her and reaches into his pocket. He does not look at her until he has the ring in his hand. When he looks up he's met with a blast of midday sun, so he has to squint. Still, he soldiers on.

‘El, I’m so very happy to have met you. Would you grant me the honour of your hand in marriage?’ 

He tries his best not to visibly wince at how dry that sounded. This is not going to plan.

‘Are you insane? No!’ El says.

He snaps his head up in shock. She is looking down at him like she’s moments away from kicking away from her. _Oh no._ His heart starts to thunder in his ears. He stares at the grass, zoning in on a dandelion to keep himself from panicking and saying something stupid. How is it that he _always_ manages to read her entirely wrongly? 

‘We hardly know each other! How did you expect me to accept!?’

‘I just- I thought--’ he pauses to draw breath, to gather his thoughts, but finds that no more words come to him. He shifts onto both knees and stares at the ground in dismay.

El is silent for a long time. Eventually, she slides her back down the trunk of the tree until she’s sitting cross-legged on the grass.

She looks at him and pats the grass by her side. Dimitri scrambles to sit beside her and tries to still the rapid beat of his heart. El’s cheeks are red, and though she’s trying to maintain her composure she looks almost as flustered as he feels. She draws breath as if to speak but then says nothing. He looks off into the distance and waits in awful anticipation for her to say her piece.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ she finally says. He looks at her again. Her knees are drawn to her chest under the loose skirt of her dress. 

‘I just thought… that this was what you would be expecting,’ he says quietly. 

‘No,’ she says, and offers no further explanation. He starts to wonder if she’s a sadist who takes pleasure in his emotional torture. 

Then she reaches for the basket by her side and places it in front of them. ‘I made this,’ she says, and she sets out some food for him on a plate. Dimitri’s head is still spinning, but when she hands it to him he takes it.

El heaps an ungodly amount of jam onto a scone and starts to eat. Dimitri finds he can only manage to look at her disbelief. After a few moments, she abruptly puts it back down on the plate and turns to him. She grasps his forearm with a panicked look in her eye.

‘You didn’t tell my mother about this, did you?!’ 

‘No, I did not,’ he says, and he finds himself too drained to give her a reply that matches her vivacity. 

‘Oh, thank the Goddess,’ she says, her demeanour visibly deflating as she draws away from him.

The rest of their lunch passes in silence. Dimitri manages to eat a sandwich, but his throat threatens to close up on him the entire time. El sighs and sets her plate aside, wiping some crumbs off her skirt.

‘Let’s just agree to forget about this,’ she says, very quietly. Dimitri almost falls over with relief.

‘Yes, gladly.’

She clears her throat. ‘And, if you feel it suitable… then you may ask me again in eight moons’ time,’ she says, pointedly not looking at him.

He blinks once, twice, and tries to meet her eye. Did he hear that correctly? 

She meets his gaze when she shoots him a harsh look over her shoulder. ‘ _Only_ if you feel it suitable.’ 

Dimitri is suddenly very certain that he is going to die imminently, either from shock or mortification. Thankfully, El intercepts before that happens. 

‘Are you finished with your food? There’s something I need your help with.’

He follows her to the field where their cow is grazing, and as he watches her hair blow in the springtime breeze he thinks that he would probably follow her anywhere she led him. Later that night, he jots today’s date down in his diary, rips the page out, and folds it neatly inside the pouch with his mother’s ring. Eight moons’ time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who commented on this saying they were hoping I would finish it. It really really gave me the push I needed to go ahead and continue <3 I've also gone through and edited the previous chapters for typos/formatting errors (I wrote most of this on my phone haha), so if you want to go back and have a read of those hopefully it'll be easier to get through. Thanks again and hopefully I'll have it finished by the end of this month!


	14. Chapter 14

‘Tell me another story,’ Edelgard says, draped over Dima’s sofa and curled up under a heavy tapestry blanket. The fabric is a little itchy but she doesn’t mind it. Not when she’s lying on top of Dima, her back pressed to his chest. Most of her body is soothed by the warmth of his skin against her own, and the way he runs his fingers softly over her arms now and then gives her the most pleasant goosebumps. 

Dima takes her hand in his own and kisses it. It’s only closing in on supper time and yet the sun is already starting to set. The sky outside is inky blue, and the moon is full. The freshly burning peat in the fireplace smells like winter.

‘What would you like to hear about?’

‘The one about the street orphans. Try to be more descriptive this time. I want to be able to envision Fhirdiad.’

Dima laughs against her shoulder and tightens his grip around her waist. He has become so unabashed in his affections lately, and she knows it should make her nervous but it… doesn’t. 

Instead, she finds herself seeking him out almost every day, spending as much time with him as she can before she’s summoned back to reality. Conversation comes steady and easy, like droplets of water from a leaky roof, and the touch of his hands against her bare skin leaves her feeling markedly bare once he’s not there to press against.

It’s a stark difference from when they first met. Her frustration with him has since boiled over into something much more tender. His awkwardness has improved too; she doesn’t get the sense that he’s combing every thought he has for imperfections before giving it voice, as he was before.

‘Well, I’m no poet, but I’ll certainly try.’ He clears his throat and starts. ‘It was about this time of year…’

Edelgard shifts and rolls her shoulders against his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head. She finds herself more enthralled with him than the story this time around. The sound of his voice at this angle, the way the low tones rumble against her back, how his stomach tenses when he laughs at his own recollections; all more interesting than the _thick snow that blanketed the unevenly cobbled streets of Fhirdiad._

But Dima’s stories have opened her eyes to so much. He _is_ quite a gifted storyteller, for one thing. His vernacular is impressive, and his descriptions of all of the places he’s visited are so much more vivid when he describes them than when she reads about them in books. 

She so dearly wants to travel, to see the world and find her place within it. There’s been a fire burning in her chest for as long as she can remember, a drive to become something that their tiny village might not be big enough to contain. 

Her mother and uncle know this all too well; Edelgard gets the sense that they had hoped her sister’s victories and accomplishments would quell it, but it still burns. Brunhilde has done much, but there is still more to be done.

She often thinks that Dima would be a good travel companion. He’s patient; he considers all of her questions, of which there are many, with real and tender thought. And when he holds her hand she feels protected, like walking down a cedar-laden path on a windy day. 

‘Well? How was that?’ Dima asks, pulling her out of her stupor.

‘Lovely. Well done,’ she says, although she didn’t listen to a word he said all along. He smiles at her praise anyway. ‘You make me want to travel.’

‘I’d be happy to accompany you,’ Dima says. Edelgard quickly turns onto her stomach so that they’re lying chest to chest. She needs to see his face for this conversation.

‘Well, where would you take me first?’ she asks, too fast. 

‘Derdriu.’ He responds without hesitation- he’s thought about this too. Edelgard had tried her best to be subtle in her designs, but clearly it hasn’t worked very well. 

‘Why Derdriu?’

‘It’s very romantic. The canals are beautiful, and you’d love the architecture. You can find food from all over the continent there, too.’

‘I thought you’d say Fhirdiad.’

Dima laughs and averts his gaze, looking over her shoulder. ‘That’s… well. Maybe someday.’

_Hmm._ Well, that is odd. He talks about the place near constantly, and with such fondness that she often wants to ask him why he left in the first place. Just as Edelgard is about to enquire about his puzzling choice of holiday destination, Dima steers the subject back on course.

‘I even had a date in Derdriu once.’

It works, and though she curses him internally for so masterfully avoiding her question, she wants to know about _this_ even more intently. ‘What? Who?’ Edelgard says, springing to attention in his arms. He’s never really mentioned any kind of former paramour before, and their first time together was so spectacularly short that she was certain he was a virgin.

‘Were you lovers, or was it just a once off?’ She tilts her head in thought. ‘Did they break your heart?’ She pauses briefly to think of another question before continuing her inquisition. ‘Do you still think about them?’

Dima laughs so hard that he snorts, which Edelgard is rather offended by. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘I’m sorry, I just…’ he wipes a tear from his eye and continues. ‘I don’t think I have time to answer all of those questions today, El. It’s about time for you to head home. Your mother will be looking for you.’

Edelgard presses her face to his shoulder and groans. ‘Why would you tease something like that and then ask me to leave…’

Dima sits up, forcing her into an upright position too. He smooths his hand over her hair. ‘I’m sorry. I wish you could stay here all night.’

Edelgard hums in agreement and finds the wherewithal to move away from him. ‘Tomorrow, then,’ she says. He kisses her neck like he often does instead of simply saying ‘yes’. She likes it when he does that.

‘I’ll walk you back.’ 

The sky is black now and free of clouds, making the stars visible. They weave expertly around the potholes in the grass, having threaded this path so many times. He hugs her in the same spot that he always does, behind the willow tree. 

What he doesn’t know is that sometimes, after they depart, she likes to hide behind that very same tree and watch him leave. It’s too dark tonight to see much, but she stays crouched there between the thick bramble until his silhouette melds into the forest.

As she changes for dinner she casts a glance over to their cottage and looks for the orange haze of burning candles beneath moth-eaten curtains. Just to be certain. 


	15. Chapter 15

Dimitri remembers his father’s hands well. They were warm when they held his own on their walks around the castle gardens, and strong when they came around his shoulders to adjust his grip on his lance. It’s a surprise, then, when Dimitri slips his father’s wedding band over his finger and finds it’s loose enough that he has to curl his fingers inwards to get it to stay on. Everything felt huge when he was a child, but it would seem that his father’s hands really were large after all.

The ring is simple, smooth gold, its only distinctive feature the letters _L.E.B._ engraved on the inside. Dimitri briefly ponders how such a small, missable detail makes the ring one of the most valuable artefacts in Faerghus.

Of course, it’s valuable to him, too. He could have it resized and wear it himself, or string it on a chain and wear it as a pendant. But there’s someone he thinks the ring might fit without needing its make up changed, someone who’s more precious to him than any keepsake.

Dimitri makes his way into the kitchen. Dedue is kneading dough, flour marring his apron.

‘Dedue,’ says Dimitri.

‘Yes,’ says Dedue, his flat intonation making his response sound like more of an affirmation than a question. 

‘I have something for you.’ Dimitri begins to root in his pocket, frowning as he skims his fingers over the potpourri of nonsense in there until he feels something cold and hard. He produces the ring and bashfully wipes some lint off of it with the edge of his shirt before holding it out to Dedue in the flat of his hand.

‘I’d like you to have this,’ Dimitri says. Dedue peers over from where he stands, then leaves his rolling pin on the counter and moves closer, giving Dimitri his full attention.

‘A ring,’ says Dedue.

‘Yes. My father’s wedding band.’

Dedue tilts his head ever so slightly. ‘Why?’

‘It doesn’t fit me. And, moreover… it would make me happy if you someday found a use for it.’

Dedue only looks at him, the same way he always does, devoid of judgement or scrutiny. ‘I see.’ 

Dedue wipes his hands on his apron. ‘May I?’ he says, gesturing to the ring still resting in Dimitri’s outstretched palm. Dimitri nods and Dedue takes it, examining it between two fingers but not quite daring to slip it on.

‘I thought you would have needed this,’ says Dedue after having sufficiently examined it. Dimitri clears his throat, a nervous habit.

‘I can find another. El...will have my mother’s set- should she accept. That is to say, I’m not wanting for heirlooms.’ 

Dedue says nothing. Dimitri draws breath but doesn’t speak. He was hoping this would present an opportunity to segue into a topic that’s long been on his mind.

After a moment of silence between them, Dimitri seizes his chance. ‘Besides, it seems as though... you might find a use for it too.’ 

He doesn’t like to pry into Dedue’s personal life. They’ve spent so much of their time inseparable from one another; Dimitri wants to give him space to breathe, the chance to nurture his own inner life that was taken from him at such a young age. Still, it would be a lie to say that he hasn’t noticed Ashe’s silvery figure slipping in and out of the kitchen, that he hasn’t overheard their quiet conversations stretch out into the deep of night, that he’s never been woken from the jingling of keys in the door at unholy hours of the morning.

Last Sunday, he hunkered down on the floor and peered through the windowpane at Dedue playing with Ashe’s younger siblings. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen him smile wider than he did at that moment.

‘...Perhaps,’ says Dedue, blinking rapidly for a moment as if to clear something from his eyes. Dimitri swallows the growing lump in his throat and puts his hand on Dedue’s shoulder.

‘Thank you, Dedue. And… good luck.’ 

Dedue closes his palm over the ring, solidifying it as his. ‘Thank you. I will… try to put it to good use.’

Dimitri exhales, and feels so very happy. 


	16. Chapter 16

Edelgard twists her bracelet around her wrist once, twice, three times. A simple gold chain with a small grey stone of unknown origin at its centre, she’s had it since she turned thirteen, though it’s been in her life far longer. 

It’s one of the few pieces that her mother brought with her from the palace, though it’s not a royal heirloom. It was her mother’s first piece of fine jewellery, obtained long before she ever met Edelgard’s father. She has no doubt that countless more precious pieces were offered to her, but somehow she always kept this one close at hand. And so Edelgard wears it every day, and she twirls it around her wrist when she’s nervous.

She can’t admit the source of her apprehension even to herself. She doesn’t want to acknowledge that the day Dima attempted to propose to her, she calmly walked home and counted exactly eight moons time from the day on her calendar. She will neither confirm nor deny that the circle around today’s date, the sixth day of the third moon of the year 1187, indicates that today is the day in question.

The snow that laid heavy over the land has melted to make way for lush green grass, and daffodils line the hedges. She has taken a seat on the ground, finding the soil cold but not damp, and there’s a springtime warmth in the air.

Dima approaches her after what feels like an eternity, this time with a picnic basket in hand. She winces internally at this sense of deja-vu and feels her body heat up at the small chance that it is not a coincidence. 

He smiles at her and carefully sets everything out on her gingham blanket. The centrepiece is a bottle of red wine, unmarked and unlabelled. She takes it and examines it before de-corking it and holding it up to her nose. 

‘Where did you get this?’ she says. This side of Fodlan is cold, which makes growing grapes hard year-round; but especially now, at the tail end of a very harsh winter.

‘I took it with me from Faerghus. I thought I might someday need it for a...special occasion.’

Edelgard hesitates. She places the bottle on the ground but keeps it steady on the uneven earth with a hand on its neck. Her fingers itch to play with her bracelet.

‘...What’s the occasion?’ she asks. Dima freezes in the middle of cutting through a block of cheese, his knife suspended in its pale, fudgy mass. He’s so still that she briefly wonders whether that poor knife will ever see the light of day again. 

‘Ah, it was- to-- celebrate the arrival of Spring.’

Edelgard’s chest suddenly feels very hollow. Crestfallen, she reaches for a sandwich and tries her best not to show her disappointment on her face. She already suspects that it was Dedue who prepared this picnic due to how neatly cut the sandwiches are, and the familiar tang of Dedue’s homegrown radish when she bites into it only confirms her suspicions.

Sadly, the delicious food does little to lift her spirits. She sits quietly, humming in agreement with Dima’s rambling when he pauses for her affirmation but does little else. Inwardly she is brewing up a storm, cursing both herself and Dima with equal fervour. Dima for getting her hopes up like that, and herself for having any hopes to dash in the first place.

They finish off the spread and remain in their seats under the oak tree, though neither of them have touched the wine. Edelgard’s inner narration is reaching unignorable levels of volume, and it’s badgering her to say something to him.

Dima speaks first. ‘El, is… is everything alright?’ He looks at him, the way he has his hand in his pocket, fingers fiddling with whatever it is he keeps in there. 

Edelgard sighs. If she lets this go now she knows resentment may well plant itself in her heart, and she fears that its branches will creep their way up and around her throat like ivy. Dima has demonstrated near-flawless consideration for her from the start; she can’t hold him to fault over a throwaway line that was probably only romantic to her, especially given the context.

Besides, she prides herself on her modernity, and there’s little that’s more modern than a lady making the first move.

‘It’s been eight moons today since you first proposed to me. I was wondering...whether you still want to marry me.’ she says. It sounds dispassionate, but her voice is placid and warm. The wind stills, the leaves on the trees no longer stirred by its bluster, as though they were watching the scene beneath them unfold in hushed silence. 

She feels all tension leave her body with her next exhale, replaced by a tender smile in Dima’s direction. He looks back at her wide-eyed but still Edelgard does not feel that she has misstepped. She simply sits calmly and waits for his response. 

Finally, Dima breaks his silence with a laugh. ‘This is… the second proposal to you that I’ve botched,’ he says. Edelgard looks at him and laughs too, suddenly understanding the entire situation in perfect clarity. 

‘It’s a good thing you have me to cover for you, then,’ she says, a giggle still playing on her lips, lending her voice a sweet cadence. She should have known all along that this wouldn’t go according to plan.

Dima pulls her in close. His mouth is sweet and red from the strawberries they ate and she never wants their kiss to end. She stays pressed against his shoulder when he eventually breaks it, waiting for him to find the ring in those boundless pockets of his. 

It’s golden and ornate with a heavy-looking grey diamond in the centre. She glances at her bracelet and finds that it’s an almost perfect match to its stone. Dima slips it on her finger, and she stretches her palm out in front of him so they can both admire it.

‘It’s lovely. I have a lot of questions about where on earth you found something this extravagant looking, but it’s lovely,’ she says. Dima laughs again.

‘Well, I already have all of my answers prepared for you.’


	17. Chapter 17

The church in the village is small and ramshackle. Built entirely of wood, it looks more like a shed than any of the churches he’d seen in Faerghus, where even the smallest of towns would have a beautiful stone building with a tall steeple. Standing at the altar with his hands crossed in front of him, he examines the low wooden ceiling with its damp circles and patches of mould and thinks about what a strange situation this is.

The wedding is a tiny affair, but in a village this small there can be no secrets. Dimitri peers from the window that backs the pew and sees that a small crowd of people have gathered at the periphery of the church. They were pretending to busy themselves at the market when he and Dedue first arrived, but their stares were even less subtle than usual. Now they have dropped all pretences and are gathered in such a way that they will get a full view of El when she arrives. He can imagine her scowling at them as she descends the carriage so vividly in his mind that he can’t help but smile. 

They should be here any minute now. 

He fusses with the sleeves of his jacket, pulling them further down over his wrists. He wears a standard-issue Faerghus military uniform, and even in all of its stiffness, he feels quite comfortable. He never wore one of these during the war; he brought it with him as a way of adding authenticity to his fabricated backstory. That it is customary for a soldier to wear their uniform to their wedding was simply a happy coincidence -- or at least that's what he told Dedue when pressed about it.

His attention is drawn to the pew by the giggles of Ashe’s siblings. A brother and a sister, Dimitri had assigned them the very important task of sprinkling flower petals over the aisle after El makes her way down it. The pair of them are bouncing up and down with excitement, dipping their fingers into their baskets full of rose petals in anticipation of letting a handful loose. 

Then comes the sound of hushed whispers and the click-clack of heeled shoes on the wooden floor. First is Patricia, undoubtedly the most glamorous woman in the village with her plum coloured dress and feathered hat. She gives him a knowing smile and walks down the left aisle to her seat, leaving El and Volkhard in the centre. 

She’s beautiful. He knew she would be, but his mind would hardly allow him to imagine it, as though it were trying to shield him from looking directly at the sun. But seeing her now, maybe the moon would be a more accurate point of comparison. She’s all ivory, lace up to her neck and a weathered-looking shawl around her shoulders. Her hair is elaborately pinned atop her head and decorated with pale white orchids, a style he knows she’s been practising for a few weeks now. He tries his best to swallow the lump in his throat but feels his lower lip go wobbly all the same.

She looks at him as she walks, head held high in the same stalwart determination with which she approaches everything. He wipes a stray tear from his eye; her lips twitch in a smile. She doesn’t even glance down at the steps as she ascends the pew, lifts her dress up just enough not to trip and keeps her shoulders fixed in a straight line. He’ll never understand how she has such a regal bearing, nor how he managed to stumble into her life, and especially not how he managed to win her heart. 

Behind her are Ashe’s brother and sister, running up and down the aisle, ensuring that the entire thing is covered with petals. Their laughter fills the room, though he can hardly look at them, not when she’s this close. Once face to face, El gives him a small but confident smile and takes his hands. He can hardly look at her for the tears forming in his eye. She squeezes his hands and in that moment he feels himself to be far more the shy, misty-eyed bride than she is.

‘Hello,’ she whispers, drawing his gaze from the floor. Her voice is resolute even now, but she’s smiling wider than he’s ever seen. She’s remarkably straightforward in every matter, including those of the heart, and he admires her all the more for it. 

‘Hi,’ he replies shakily, and the priest begins to speak.

He casts a glance over the pew once now that everyone has taken their seats. Even in a church this small, their party is laughably lacking in numbers; there’s just Patricia, Volkhardt, Ashe and Dedue, all sitting together in the first row. Ashe is trying to convince his siblings, who are preoccupied loudly whispering about El, to take their seats. 

He smooths his thumb over El’s hand, soft and unmarked as it is. He hopes her hands will always remain this way, that she’ll never have to know the horrors of the world as intimately as he does. He’ll do anything to shield her from it.

He’s not taking in what the priest is saying, only listening out for his cue to speak. His speech seems to draw on forever, and all he wants to do is pull El in as close as he can, press his mouth against that spot on her neck, and keep her in his arms for the rest of the day. Every moment lasts an eternity when they’re this close but still apart.

Finally, after what feels like hours of gazing at her, the priest asks them to take their vows.

‘Do you vow to take this woman as your wife, to love her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep only to her as long as you both shall live?’ 

Dimitri nods, almost forgetting to speak. ‘I do,’ he says, his voice strained. The priest then asks the same of El. She looks him firmly in the eyes, as if staring down the rest of her life, and speaks.

‘Yes, I do.’ 

That’s it. ‘In name of Sothis, I now declare thee husband and wife.’

Dimitri lurches forward and kisses El with such intent that she looks embarrassed when he pulls away. ‘Wow,’ she whispers, her body tense - she must be self-conscious about her family watching them. Dimitri’s head is so abuzz with joy that he can’t find it in himself to care.

‘I love you,’ he pronounces, as if he hasn’t just vowed to spend the rest of his days with her. Still, El softens a little at the reassurance.

‘I love you too.’ 

\--

They all retreat to celebrate at Dimitri and Dedue’s cottage, where Dedue and Ashe have spent days preparing a feast despite both El and Dimitri insisting that they didn’t have to go to such lengths. El has opted to stay in her dress, which he has now learned that she and her mother made together. 

Sitting by her side at the dinner table, he leans in close to her. She responds in kind, pressing herself against his arm until her breasts at touching his bicep, the most public display of affection she’s ever granted him. 

The night wears on, and the wine and warmth puts everyone in a haze. Dimitri steps into the drafty hall to cool down for a moment. A moment is all he gets though; someone has followed him.

He turns to see who the intruder is, and finds Patricia standing right in front of him, her chest puffed out in defiance. ‘Dima,’ she says, all of her usual sweetness drained from her voice. She plants her hands on his shoulders, and he immediately straightens his back. ‘You are not to bring El to Enbarr.’

‘I-’ starts Dimitri, even though he doesn’t know what he’s about to say. Patricia cuts him off regardless.

‘I do not care how much she pleads with you. I do not care what fantastical lies she spins to convince you. If you love her as you say you do, you will _not_ bring her near that place under any circumstances.’ 

She stares at him. Dimitri stares back, dumbfounded. El has certainly expressed a wish to travel, but not to any specific location. He has a very strong feeling that this will not be the last he hears of this.

‘Are we clear?’ 

He has no choice but to concede, and hope that this won’t cause any problems in the future. ‘Yes. I promise you I will not bring her to Enbarr.’


	18. Chapter 18

‘We’d like to go to Enbarr.’ 

Dimitri sighs upon hearing those words. El negotiates with the coachman with all the tact and confidence of someone who’s done this before, while he stands with their luggage in hand. Dedue had offered her use of his suitcase, but as it turned out El had her own _set_ , including a few elaborate hat boxes. Dimitri wonders if he will ever unravel all of her mysteries.

‘It’s half a day’s journey from here.’

‘That’s fine. We would prefer to depart now and make it there by nightfall.’

The coachman nods and pulls open the carriage door for them. El climbs in before him and perches herself on the seat nearest the window. She’s been buzzing with quiet excitement all morning. Dimitri is rather more resigned, laden down with the worry of Patricia finding out about their escapade. 

Patricia arranged for the two of them to honeymoon in a small hamlet named Linden. Just a few miles away, it is practically indiscernible from their own village, and they were to be under the watchful eye of Pete the coachman for the whole weekend.

Pete is an old man with blackened hands and a penchant for drink, and he is also maybe the only person in the village with a horse and carriage decent enough for long trips. Dimitri has no idea how he obtained it, but he mostly seems to use it to lug around turf to sell to the people in the village, meaning the first leg of their trip left them covered in dirt. When they arrived at Linden, El escorted Pete straight to the local tavern. She left the bartender with a pocket full of gold and strict instructions not to allow Pete to leave the premise for the entire weekend. 

Now, watching the village whizz past them through the window, he’s feeling a sense of nervousness that he hasn’t felt in years. El had quickly changed her clothes in Linden, and she looks so elegant that it makes his turf-stained clothing feel even grubbier.

What exactly is so dangerous in Enbarr that El can’t set foot there? Is he leading her straight into danger?

‘What’s the matter?’ she asks, her hands folded neatly in her lap. 

‘Your mother was so adamant that I don’t bring you here. I’m worried.’

‘It’s only because she’s so overprotective.’

‘But why here specifically? I could have taken you to Derdriu.’

‘Because I’ve always wanted to come back here-- I mean, to see where my parents met. It seems so romantic.’

Dimitri runs a hand over his face. They’ve only just started the second leg of their journey and he’s already exhausted from the stress of it all. ‘Just… promise you’ll stay close to me. I’m serious. If your mother finds out about this I don’t think she’ll ever let me see you again.’

\--

It’s the middle of the night when they pass through the city gates, and while Dimitri is drowsy, El may as well be wired to the moon. She’s sat with her back poker straight, chin held high in anticipation.

‘There’ll be another carriage waiting for us when we get to the bed and breakfast,’ she says, mere moments away from where they’re supposed to stop for the night. 

‘What?’ Dimitri says, and his skin prickles with something like fear.

El reaches for his hand across the worn-out upholstery and gives him a sincere look. ‘I’ll explain everything when we get there. I promise there’s nothing to worry about.’ 

They depart the carriage at a bed and breakfast on one of the central streets of Enbarr, and even at this hour, the road is abuzz with people coming and going. Dimitri knows these streets well, has ridden through them many times. Faerghus and Adrestria have a fractured history, but efforts have been made in recent years, and when the Empress called on him for aid during the war he accepted. 

Still, he always felt uneasy passing through here. Partaking in calm discussions with Adrestrian Empress, knowing how his ancestor’s blood stains her family line, felt like some kind of betrayal. But this was what was best for his people, and what his father wanted, and it’s not as though Faerghus hasn’t spilt its fair share of blood in the past, either.

These are the thoughts he repeated endlessly to himself while waiting in gold-filigree parlours for his audiences with the Empress. He never thought he’d step foot in this place again, but now El is dragging him by the hand to the back of the building. She’s walking briskly, head held high and darting from side to side at the slightest sound. He’s never seen her so on-edge before, and he’s starting to believe that something is seriously wrong.

His mind starts racing, each thought more worrying than the next. He’s getting carried away with himself, he knows, but it doesn’t help, not when El walks with her shoulders tense and her other hand balled into a fist at her side. He reminds himself that he has a dagger in his boot, but stops that train of thought before it can continue. His dear El could not be a spy. Now he’s repeating that thought to himself, but his heart is pounding nonetheless. What if this has all been an elaborate ruse to bring him to his death? He stops in his tracks.

‘El, tell me where you are bringing me.’ 

She looks at him, her hair a golden halo under the light of the streetlamps, and bites her lip, as though she is on the verge of tears- from guilt or frustration, he can’t tell. ‘Dima, please. I promise I’ll explain everything when we get there. But we really cannot dawdle.’ 

‘Why?’

‘Dima- please-’ she says, tugging on his arm as though she were trying to lead a stubborn horse to water. Then Dimitri feels a presence behind him, and he’s certain that he’s about to die.

‘If you insist on making trouble for trouble for my Lady then I shall have to escort you myself,’ says the voice behind him, low and grave in his ear. There’s something in the tone that’s _so_ familiar, yet he can’t place it in his panic. 

He sees the way Edelgard’s eyes light up for a moment at the sight of the man behind him. He whips around, and his eyes widen in a horrifying realization. He recognizes him - the dark hair covering one distinctive green eye, the misplaced smirk, the _cheekbones -_ this is not a face easily forgotten. This is the Minister of the Imperial Household, and the Empress’ advisor.

Now Dimitri is certain that this has all been an elaborate ruse, and that he is being led to his death by the hands of the woman he loves.

The man - Vestra, if he remembers correctly - looks equally as shocked as Dimitri, but he barely has time to register that. El tugs Dimitri’s arm with a strength he did not know her to be capable of and hauls him around the back of the building, Dimitri too stunned to resist.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers as she links her arm in his, and that’s a clear sign that she’s going to take him inside this carriage and murder him. She pushes him up the stairs and into his seat, and when she sits next to him she strokes his cheek, her touch gentle and her eyes rueful. 

The Minister takes his seat across from them. El looks at him, _Hubert_ , he gleans, from how she whispers his name as though she might start to cry and reaches her hand out to him. He reciprocates, stroking over her palm with his gloved thumb. The coachman whips the horses into motion. 

‘Dima,’ El says, pulling away and taking his hand instead. ‘I’m sorry I lied to you. The truth is, I spent some of my youth in Adrestria, and despite my mother’s insistence otherwise, I’ve stayed in contact with my remaining family here. This is Hubert. He’s a very close family friend, and he helped me to organize this trip.’

‘A family friend,’ Dimitri repeats as he stares Hubert down, his mouth dry. 

_‘_ Yes,’ hisses Hubert, glaring at Dimitri, a warning not to press any further. What on earth has he gotten himself into?

‘Why the need for all the secrecy?’ Dimitri whispers into El’s ear, ever wary of the gloomy figure across from them. 

‘Dima, you don’t need to whisper…’ she says, but she presses close into him to reply in her own hushed tone, which makes him feel a little more at ease. ‘It’s because of my mother. Truly, I wanted to tell you everything, but I couldn’t. She worries so much, I just couldn’t risk-’ she sighs, cutting herself off, her lips curling downwards into a frown.

Dimitri stares at his lap. It’s plausible, isn’t it? That an imperial minister might maintain friendships outside of his duties. But he referred to Edelgard as his _Lady._ If that’s a term of endearment, then that’s wildly inappropriate for a newly married woman, especially in conversation with her husband. If it’s anything more than that… well. Dimitri doesn’t even know where to begin.

‘Hubert is going to be our escort for this trip. We’ll spend tonight in a townhouse not too far from here, and then tomorrow…’ she pauses, fiddling with her bracelet. A nervous habit, he knows. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll visit my sister.’

‘I… I didn’t know you had a sister.’ 

El smiles, but it’s a sad one, and nods. ‘I have several, in fact. My mother forbids me from speaking of them to anyone. But Dima,’ she grasps both his hands, ‘I want to share this part of my life with you.’ 

She looks so sincere, so hopeful, and Dimitri loves her so dearly that he could never bring himself to quash those feelings, no matter how uneasy he is about the situation. There must be a lot he doesn’t know about her still, but he’s eager to learn. He glances at Hubert, whose expression is as blank as ever, then runs his thumb over El’s hand.

‘This is a lot to take in at once.’

‘I know, I’m-’ he stops her before she can apologize again. She never says sorry unless she truly thinks she has wronged someone, so clearly she feels very badly about this whole affair.

‘I trust you, my love.’ Her expression brightens at that, and Dimitri smiles in turn. 

Hubert clears his throat loudly and deliberately, which is enough to put Dimitri in a bad mood again. ‘We have arrived.’

Hubert leaves quickly and when El alights the carriage he is there to hold her hand with a suspicious amount of enthusiasm. He does not extend the same courtesy to Dimitri. If this is the company that her family keeps then they’re off to a bad start.

They make their way up to the second floor of a rather posh townhouse. The interior is much like the exterior, the kind of understated luxury that signals nobility. Hubert offers to brew El a pot of tea, and he knows to make bergamot without even having to ask. Dimitri takes a cup too, even though he finds it makes it hard to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

Later, in the bedroom, El curls into his arms and presses her face to his chest. Her hair smells like wind and smoke and lavender, like someone who has had a long day and needs a good night’s sleep. He strokes her back. 

‘Thank you for coming with me,’ she says, voice muffled against his pyjama shirt. Dimitri smiles and wraps a strand of her hair around his finger. Truthfully, he might have preferred a honeymoon where they have nothing to do but laze about and touch one another, but clearly this trip is important to her. Besides, those kinds of honeymoons assume that the couple hasn’t been intimate before, and he and El have been sleeping with each other for months. 

Still. Maybe for their anniversary. 

Just then, he feels El shift. She skims his chest with her hand, past his stomach, traces circles with her fingers on his inner thigh. Dimitri’s back arches despite himself at the intimate contact, but he only presses a chaste kiss to her forehead in response. She’s exhausted, he’s exhausted; they might find some time to themselves tomorrow, but El is about to fall asleep at any moment.

He hears the waistband of his trousers snap before he registers her touch, feels her small hand palming the length of his cock. His breath hitches when she cups his balls; her touch is featherlight and lazy, her face is still pressed against his chest.

‘El…’ he whispers. She only hums in response, tilts her head and traces her finger over the vein. He tilts his hips closer against her despite knowing they should stop this here. ‘We should sleep,’ he says, voice raspier than he intended. 

‘No,’ she whispers and continues her path. He lies still and stares at the ceiling. Then she’s pulling at his waistband. ‘El, you’re tired, I really think we should-’

‘I’ve been preparing to do this for a while now,’ she says, and even in her tired state he can hear the authority in her voice. She makes her plans, and she can’t stand to leave them unfulfilled. This is who she is. ‘Just be quiet, alright? Bite a pillow if you need to.’ 

He sighs, because El has no idea how difficult that command really is for him, and it would be difficult to explain a burst pillow to Hubert in the morning. Still, he bends his legs at the knee and presses both feet into the mattress, and together they remove his pyjama pants. He’s half-hard already, and El runs her thumb over the length of it, scraping her nail against the hot flesh.

She sits between his legs, and he bends forward and sweeps her hair off her shoulder before pulling the strap of her nightgown down. She stops him with a hand over his own. ‘Not tonight,’ she says, which leaves Dimitri confused. She wastes no time in making her intentions clear to him, though, as she slides further down the bed until she’s bent over on her knees, then rolls his foreskin down and takes the head of Dimitri’s cock in her mouth.

‘Ah--’ Dimitri yelps, grasping the sheets before realizing what he’s done and throwing a hand over his mouth. She pulls off and shushes him with a finger to her mouth and a furrowed brow. ‘Be quiet.’

She may have warned him not to make any noise, but she didn’t give him a lot of warning to prepare himself. They’ve never done this before; he’s thought about it a few times, but he’s never brought it up. He understands her hesitance- he’s well-endowed enough that it might be too much for her. Besides, he’s a giver by nature, and there’s nothing that turns him on more than giving El pleasure. ‘El, you don’t have to do this,’ he says, consciously keeping his voice down. 

‘I want to,’ she says, then returns to pumping him with her hand. The next time she takes him in her mouth he’s better equipped, but he still hisses at how warm and wet her mouth is. He takes deep, conscious breaths and keeps his gaze glued to the ceiling, knowing that if he were to look at her right now he wouldn’t be able to keep from moaning.

Once the sensation isn’t so new and intense he ventures a glance down. Her eyes are half-open and sleepy, and she bobs her head in time with her hand as she strokes him. She doesn’t have much more than the head in her mouth, but it’s enough. She moves her tongue around him in slow, languid motions, and the arousal in her eyes makes it all the better.

For a moment he wants to take her by the hair and hold her in place, the way she does to him when he eats her out, but he decides against it. He doesn’t want to push her down any more than she’s comfortable with, but he wants to touch her nonetheless. He leans forward and smooths her hair back off her shoulder, holds it in a ponytail for a moment before he flits his fingers over her jaw, and feels her swallowing and moving. 

She looks up at him, her lips red and wet. He strokes her cheek with the back of his hand and groans. It takes his vision a few moments to adjust to this new angle in the dim light, but then he sees it; her nightdress bunched up around her thighs, her free hand rotating in circular motions beneath the fabric. Then he feels her moan around him, and the vibrations run right through him. 

He throws his head against the pillow and finds purchase on the bedsheets again. El is increasing her pace, and in the still of the night the wet sounds from her mouth seem amplified. He wants to touch her, but he can’t sit upright anymore, so he moves his legs to encircle her instead, resting one over hers where they’re tucked up under her. She looks up at him and smiles.

From there it’s just a matter of trying to keep his composure, but it slips further away from him with every pump of her hand. He can hear her every little pant and moan, can feel her hand jerking against his leg as she touches herself, her tongue venturing further down his length before returning to draw circles around the head. 

His head is spinning with pleasure, his gaze switching from the ceiling to El, her figure blurry in the dim candlelight. But then she does -- _something_ , with her tongue, and the pleasure is sharp and instant, pricking down on him and making his spine curve. He hisses and grinds his heel into the mattress, and when she does it again he grabs a pillow and bites down into it, shifts his hips forward and up into her mouth, calls her name into the feathers until he can’t think straight anymore.

He feels El’s breath, light as a feather, coming and going on his inner thigh, and when she makes herself come she takes the fragile skin of his thigh in her mouth and _bites_ him. Dimitri lies in the same spot, floored, then El makes her way up the bed and settles in next to him. ‘That should help you sleep,’ she says, then blows out the candle on her nightstand.


	20. Chapter 20

The sun rises early at this time of year, but this morning Edelgard rises even earlier. Wracked with a nervous excitement, her body forces her eyes open before Hubert can come to wake her. 

Dima is still fast asleep, the broad expanse of his shoulders rising and falling under the duvet where he’s turned away from her. Her chest twists at the memories of last night, and she can still taste him on her lips. It pains her to wake him, but she decides he would most likely prefer a wake up call from her than Hubert.

She reaches across and jostles his shoulder. The motion may look forceful to an onlooker, but she knows anything less won’t wake him up. He rouses gradually, blinking his good eye until his vision is clear. The scarring where his eye is missing looks calm, not angry and red like it sometimes does. ‘Good morning,’ she says once he seems to be aware of his surroundings. He smiles, the skin around his eye wrinkling fondly. 

Hubert enters shortly after with breakfast and the day's itinerary. She listens intently but can’t manage more than a nibble at the pastries. Dima munches through them indiscriminately and watches Hubert with a look that she can’t quite place. ‘There will be no detours on our trip,’ Hubert says, and he shoots a look at Dima as he does so, which earns him a scowl.

She starts to feel like they’re in on something she isn’t, but she doesn’t have the mental space to think about what on earth that could be. Not right now, not when her sister is waiting for her in the Hresvelg summer manor, just an hours ride from here. 

The weather is fine, and she already has her outfit prepared. A simple but elegant duck-egg blue dress, light enough to be breathable in the springtime heat but still modest with its three quarter length sleeves. Dima looks sharp too in his simple linen tunic and black trousers, and her heart lurches at the thought of introducing him to Brunhilde.

Things are quiet in the carriage. Hubert is not one for small talk, and Edelgard is too overwhelmed to put her thoughts into words. Watching the buildings of Enbarr blur into lush greenery as they exit the city and enter the countryside, she wishes their journey would last longer so she’d have more time to think. Her oldest sister, Brunhilde, Emperor of Adrestria. From the moment they were separated, she has wanted nothing more than to see her again.

Her early childhood was idyllic. It was everything one could wish for; all of the common trappings of a royal upbringing were mitigated by the sheer fun of having ten siblings. The palace employed so many staff and yet it still wasn’t enough to keep them fully in check. She has fond memories of her father too -- a distant but warm figure, a gentle pair of hands leading her through the palace gardens in the warm months.

Things changed after her eleventh birthday. A coup was staged, an attempt to strip her father’s power that was only half successful. About half of the Adrestrian noble families sided against him, and while he retained support from the remaining nobility it still meant that the court was thrown into disarray. In the midst of the confusion, something dreadful happened. 

She doesn’t remember it very well, but she’s certain it couldn’t have been more than a few days, and that she spent most of that time passed out. When she awoke she was in her mother’s arms in a rickety carriage that was travelling far too fast. There, Anselma explained everything; that her father had found her and her siblings being experimented on in the dungeons below the castle, that his forces had chased them out but their numbers were still unknown, and that she and the other concubines had pulled off nothing short of a miracle that night in taking their children and fleeing. Lastly, she held up her hand mirror and showed Edelgard her reflection. Her hair had turned white, and neither her mother nor her uncle knew why. 

She spent the first few years of her life in the countryside very unhappy; pulled from the colourful joy of a royal childhood with ten brothers and sisters and dropped in the middle of nowhere with no one but her mother and her uncle. It was a lonely existence, and it made her feel powerless and angry - until she happened upon a letter addressed to her tucked into a bush a few miles from her house. 

Somehow, three years after they were separated, Hubert found her. He wrote her a letter to let her know that Brunhilde was alive and well and intended to take her place as Emperor as the eldest child with a crest. Additionally, Hubert would act as her advisor. Enclosed was a small note from Brunhilde, where she told her that she had heard from their other siblings, who were all accounted for. 

Their correspondence never stopped after that. Edelgard found an outlet for her rebellious spirit, and she would write back fervently on whatever scrap of paper she could find, recycling the same envelope until Hubert thought to send her a stationery set for her twelfth birthday. She would simply leave an unmarked letter in that same bush, and somehow it would make its way to Enbarr - even at that age, she knew better than to question Hubert’s methods.

Then she began to plan. She would squirrel away ideas, escape routes, ways to get out of the countryside and back to Enbarr. She would have done it by herself, but Dima has certainly made it easier. Brunhilde’s letter after she reported her marriage to her was ecstatic; she practically begged them to make a visit, and her sister is not the type to beg for anything. 

Dima squeezes her hand and draws her out of her thoughts. ‘We’re almost there,’ he says. Indeed they are. They ride down the winding dirt path, through the heavy forest that grants them privacy from onlookers. She spent the happiest summers of her life here, surrounded by vibrant life and beautiful nature. The memory draws tears to her eyes but she blinks them away as quickly as they came. 

She raises her head and juts her chin as the manor finally comes into view. It hasn’t changed in the slightest, which is more of a sign of meticulous upkeep than stagnation. The ivy still winds over the ivory mortar, the door is still the same deep shade of red, not weathered a day. She leans forward in her seat, eager to get her feet on solid ground.

She’s been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t think to pay attention to her present company. Right now, they’re both watching her in silence, the same look of anticipation etched on their faces. Her throat is dry and she can’t think of anything to say, so she says nothing. 

The carriage draws to a stop. She sees the red door being pulled open from the inside, but she snaps her head away. A peculiar kind of anxiety wracks through her, pulls up through her lungs and tingles in her fingertips. She’s waited for this day for so long, and now she can’t even look at her.

She steps unsteadily from the carriage and stands rooted to the spot where she lands. The carriage is blocking her view, so she can’t see the door. She tries to take a step, but is so nervous she can hardly move.

Then Dima’s by her side, and he links his arm with hers. He just stands beside her for a moment, not saying anything, but it’s all she needs. She leans into him for a moment and finds her resolve comes welling back. 

‘Ready?’ he asks. Edelgard nods. She is ready. She tightens her grip on his arm and faces Hubert with a smile. He nods, and she can see the sentimentality in his eyes. He must have been waiting for this day for a long time too.

They round the corner, and there she is. Her sister. Her hair, white as her own but even longer, smoothed back off her face in a high ponytail. Taller than her, taller than she remembers. High cheekbones and an elegant, intelligent bearing. As strong and serene and composed as she imagined she would be.

That is until she catches sight of them. Then she tears from the doorway and runs down the path. She’s smiling so wide, and she thinks she’s crying too, and now Edelgard is running towards her with her arms outstretched. 

‘El!’ she hears her say as they reach each other, wrapping their arms around one another. Edelgard feels hot tears on her cheek, and she doesn’t know whether their hers or Brunhilde’s, but it doesn’t matter because now Brunhilde has lifted her off her feet and is swinging her around in a circle like she used to do when she was a child. 

They stay there clinging to each other, managing to get out a few _' I missed you'_ s and ' _I love you’_ s in between their sobs. All of her nerves have evaporated on the wind; their circumstances have changed, but her sister hasn’t. 

She looks back at Hubert and Dima and gives them a tearful smile, beckoning them closer with her hand. Hubert looks so touched that she finally feels incensed enough to hug him, a hand around his waist that he rather awkwardly leans into, and he smiles, a rare gift.

She focuses on Dima then and finds him as pale as a sheet. He must be nervous. ‘Oh, Brunhilde,’ she says, taking a step back to grab his hand. ‘This is Dima.’

Brunhilde, who had perhaps been too focused on Edelgard to notice him, looks up. ‘It’s…’ she says, and her pale eyes widen as they fall on his face, but then she straightens her back, and hastily presses her lips together in a smile again. ‘It’s wonderful you meet you, Dima.’

Dima looks absolutely floored, and his hand is limp in her own. Well, she can hardly blame him; her sister is beautiful, in a very ethereal way. Of course he would be stunned. She gives his hand a squeeze to bring him back down to earth. He looks at her with an urgency in his eyes, but Edelgard just tilts her head in question. ‘This is my Brunhilde, my sister,’ she reminds him. 

Dima still hesitates, moves his mouth like there’s something he wants to say but can’t. Her sister’s smile is firm, almost a warning. Hubert is glaring daggers at him, and once again Edelgard feels like an outsider in her own family. 

Finally, he squeezes her hand and smiles. ‘I’m...so happy to finally meet you,’ he says, and Brunhilde gives him a stiff nod. Well, it’s good enough for now. She knows how he gets anxious, after all; she supposes he just needs some time to warm up to her.

They head inside, where every hallway is laden with memories. The dark wooden floor is chipped in all the same places, and gauzy curtains still cover every window, providing some shade on warmer days. She can suddenly recall lazy summer days spent playing in the front garden with such clarity, as though the memories had been encased in amber. She walks in time with Brunhilde, who talks about the weather and their other siblings with a subdued enthusiasm that tells Edelgard she has been waiting a long time to have this conversation with her. Edelgard nods along with her observations, and it feels as though the two of them were never separated.

Dima and Hubert trail behind them in silence. On the way to the parlour, she casts a glance back at them; the both look equally as glum. Edelgard is too busy to worry about it right now, but someday she’ll ensure that they make amends. Once seated, Hubert sets about making tea while she and Brunhilde settle on the sofa by the window and talk.

Dima joins them, albeit hesitantly, having spent a few minutes hovering in the doorway. He sits with his legs crossed tightly, but even in his best efforts at making himself compact the seat still seems too small for him. Brunhilde smooths her skirt and folds her hands in her lap. ‘Well, that’s enough about me,’ she says, even though she’s only talked about their brother, Michalis, and his new daughter. ‘Congratulations to both of you. I’m sure you’re both very happy.’

Dima smiles, and it looks a little more genuine this time. ‘Thank you. I’m very lucky to have met El. She is… wonderful beyond compare.’ 

Brunhilde makes a small, satisfied noise, and her smile turns prideful. Edelgard’s cheeks burn. ‘Right you are. She is a remarkable young woman.’ 

Dima draws a breath to continue his raving. Edelgard clears her throat to stop this conversation before it starts. ‘Dima is from Faerghus.’ She has already told her this in her letter, but she’ll do anything to steer the conversation from where she thinks it’s heading.

‘So I’ve heard. I’m sure you’re finding the weather in central Fodlan to be a nice change of pace,’ Brunhilde says. Edelgard listens as they talk, and finds herself rather impressed with Dima’s conversation skills. He makes small talk about all manner of things, crop rotations and the lives of Faerghus farmers and other specific knowledge, all with a worldliness that makes him sound intelligent and well-rounded. It must be from all of the books he reads.

Once the conversation burns out, Brunhilde offers to take her on a tour around the rest of the house. She accepts and Dima knowingly excuses himself, and together they walk down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed Edelgard's backstory a bit here, because I figured if all of the canon happenings had occurred she would have raised an army all by herself and set out to fight like the determined rebel she is in her heart T_T i hope it's believable! admittedly i didn't put a ton of thought into the mechanics of this universe, but i suppose that's not really the point of this story


	21. Chapter 21

‘You may begin to explain yourself,’ says Hubert as they step out into the fresh air. All Dimitri can do is sigh. Where does he even begin?

‘I do not believe there’s much to explain. As you know, I deflected once I had established a self-governing system in Faerghus. I wanted a simpler life, so I moved to the countryside, and that’s where I met her.’ 

‘And _why_ did you pursue her?’ Hubert asks. Dimitri dives his hands into his pockets, looking for something to fidget with. Saints. What does he want him to say? How does he accurately express everything he loves about her without coming off as saccharine? ‘She’s very charming,’ he finally says, and he flinches as soon as the words leave his mouth. 

Hubert huffs. ‘You mean it didn’t occur to you that she might be a Hresvelg?’

Dimitri wonders if Hubert knows how absurd that sounds. ‘No? Why on earth would I have presumed that?’

‘Her hair is a rather distinct colour.’ 

Well, he can’t say he didn’t draw the comparison once or twice, but Brunhilde’s appearance was not something that stuck with him long enough to use it as a point of reference. She is striking, of course, just like El, but when Dimitri met her. her looks were the furthest thing from his mind. ‘She told me she had Duscur blood. Dedue has the very same colour.’ 

‘Hmmph. And you never thought to disclose your own past to her?’ 

‘I wanted a normal life, away from all of that. I couldn’t tell her.’ 

‘So you lied to her,’ Hubert says. Dimitri wants to roll his eyes. Has it not occurred to him that there are two sides to this story?

‘Yes. I felt guilty for that,’ he says, consciously keeping his tone steady and neutral. ‘But this trip has opened my eyes to the fact that she and I are on even footing in that regard.’

Hubert scoffs in response but offers no counter-argument. Dimitri prays that this will be the end of the conversation.‘It’s difficult to believe that this is all a coincidence.’

At least they can agree on that. ‘I feel the very same. I’ll tell her tonight. There’s no way we can go on pretending after this visit,’ says Dimitri.

The sound of their voices is replaced by the rhythmic beat of their footsteps on the grass. Despite the rather hellish inquisition he just faced, this is considerably less awkward than the last time they were forced to be alone with one another. 

‘…How is her life in the countryside? I presume you have at least _some_ insight into her thoughts,’ Hubert asks, and Dimitri is surprised enough to not be offended by that quip. Hubert is not one for small talk; Dimitri estimated that he’ll generally only talk to you if he believes you may have some information that will benefit him. However, it seems that talking about El is his one exception. Dimitri tells him all about her, her sheep, her talent for painting, her interest in travel and politics. Hubert listens in silence, though Dimitri recognizes the glean in his eyes as something like sentimentality.

His interest in El set off Dimitri’s alarms, but as they talk now he begins to see things from his point of view. She’s a dear friend to him; if he’d been separated from Dedue for that length of time… well. It hardly bears thinking about, but surely upon their reunion, he’d feel much the same as El did when she saw Hubert again.

They make the rounds, and Dimitri enjoys looking at the various flora and fauna. Grey squirrels dart across their path, and wild poppies and daisies lend the overgrown grass some colour. His mind enters that familiar haze that only a walk in nature can bring about, and when they return to the house he is cheerful in a new resolve to set things straight.


	22. Chapter 22

Edelgard and Brunhilde make their way past the dining hall and through to the kitchen, where a small staff are working on this evening's meal.

Edelgard remembers sneaking in here to steal treats from the pantry. She would return from her escapades with an armful of biscuits and a satisfied smile, her chest puffed out in pride, a little lioness. No amount of scolding could deter her from her roguery, not when it made her siblings so happy.

They’re met with a shriek that dissolves into an ecstatic kind of laughter once they enter the room. There’s a pair of outstretched arms pulling her into a tight hug, and it’s only when she draws away that she realizes who they belong to. Her nurse, Betty, the woman who took care of her when her mother wasn't present. Her face is rounder, her eyes wrinkled around the edges, but she could never misplace that kind smile, those rosy cheeks. 

‘Look at you!’ Betty says, making a broad vertical sweep with her hand that points to nothing in particular. Brunhilde looks on fondly, chiming in with compliments of her own in the midst of Betty’s sermon. ‘Your husband must be delighted with himself,’ Betty says, which is brazen enough to make Edelgard flinch.

A timely distraction comes in the form of another girlish squeal, which prompts all of the women to flood into the dining room. They’re all crowded around the window, but Edelgard doesn’t need to climb up onto her tippy-toes to know what they’re looking at, because Betty uses her authority as the newly promoted head of the house to part them and then drags Edelgard through. 

Hubert and Dima are making the rounds of the back garden. What’s more, they’re  _ talking _ , and though they still look serious, Dima doesn’t look like he’s moments away from driving a knife into Hubert’s neck, nor does Hubert seem to be concocting a way to poison him in his sleep. They feel more like a pair of diplomats, restrained but amiable, or at least not murderous. 

‘Is that him?!’ Betty asks, and every face in the room turns to look at her expectantly. 

‘Yes, that is him,’ she says, and she pulls her stomach in and her shoulders back, the posture she was thought to practice by her tutors. The atmosphere in the room bursts and a chorus of giggles soon makes it difficult to even hear herself think. She laughs, though it’s a nervous one, and glances at Brunhilde. Her face never betrays a thing; she keeps that same serene smile throughout. Edelgard can imagine that this is a source of contention for her political opponents.

‘Shall we finish our tour?’ she says, and Edelgard nods. She bids her goodbyes and promises to stop by later, then follows her out into the hall, feeling very much like a younger sister. 

In the quiet of the hall, she feels melancholy unfurl in her chest. Brunhilde looks at her with wistful eyes and Edelgard knows she sees right through her. ‘I wish I could stay here,’ Edelgard says, putting voice to the sentiment that they both knew was growing. 

‘You’re both welcome here anytime,’ she says. The silence swells between them, heavy with all the things they want to say but can’t find the words for. ‘In fact, I must implore you to return.’

Edelgard looks at her. There’s a shift in her tone, something grave colouring it. ‘There’s… another reason that I asked you to come here, El. It’s about your crests,’ Brunhilde says. 

Edelgard received a letter from her three or so years ago explaining what exactly the purpose of those experiments was, and why their hair turned white. She knows that she has not one, but two incredibly rare crests, but she never quite knew what to do with that information. She deplores the crest system and watched with glee as Brunhilde forcefully but patiently dismantled it. There’s a strange sort of vindication in how little she puts her crests to use, but she still feels a disconnect between herself and others. Despite how rapidly crests are losing their value in society, she still feels as though she’ll always have to keep them a secret.

‘We’ve discovered that having two crests takes an immense toll on the body. Thankfully, we’ve also devised a process for removing the second one, and we’ve had great success,’ says Brunhilde, smooth and impassive, as though she’d rehearsed this earlier.

‘What kind of toll?’ Edelgard asks, pressing a hand to the wall as if to balance herself.

‘A severely shortened lifespan,’ she says. Edelgard blinks, but Brunhilde continues before the fear can fester. ‘It’s not  _ absolutely _ urgent, but I’d prefer to have it done as soon as possible. We’ve ironed out most of the creases in the procedure. Michaelis fell very ill when he turned forty, but after the removal, he’s been in fine health. Though,’ she fiddles with her ponytail, ‘you won’t regain the pigment in your hair.’

‘I… I see.’ Edelgard’s mouth has run dry.  _ A shortened lifespan. A lifesaving procedure.  _ It’s too much to take in all at once. She stares past Brunhilde’s shoulder and towards the front door, the colours of the room blurring as she loses focus in her vision.

‘I know it sounds terrifying, but it’s not a cause for concern, as long as we get you back here,’ Brunhilde says, and she places a grounding hand on her forearm. 

Edelgard is quiet for a moment. Brunhilde is patient in the silence, the very same kind older sister she’s missed all these years. ‘I suppose this means I’ll have to tell my mother, then,’ she says, a bewildered laugh bubbling in her throat. How very absurd this entire situation is.

‘I’ve prepared a letter from the doctor who has pioneered this research. Your mother should recognize his name and heed his advice,’ she says. A few moments pass in silence before Brunhilde starts towards the stairs. Edelgard follows, the wood creaking beneath her feet, and when she closes her eyes for a moment she can visualize her own bloodstream.

Into the master bedroom, with the view that overlooks the garden, the one she and her siblings used to sneak into when no one was looking, they stand shoulder to shoulder. ‘It will be alright, El,’ Brunhilde says, and hearing her say it somehow makes it feel true.   


Then Dima and Hubert come into view. They’re walking in time with one another, and the sky is clear and bright and full of midday sun. ‘Your husband is…’ Brunhilde pauses, her eyes narrowed as she follows his path down the garden. ‘A good man,’ she concludes. 

‘He is.’ 


	23. Chapter 23

At dinner, he watches the Empress of Adrestria laugh and listen to her younger sister’s tales of life in the countryside with such warmth and genuine interest that he almost wants to drop to his knees and thank her for being so sweet. El is practically glowing, chatting with vivacity and even gesticulating with her hands, a rare thing for her. When dessert arrives she claps in delight and beams at him, and Dimitri has no choice but to take one bite of his own dish and then surrender the rest to her. This earns him a knowing smile from Brunhilde.

He always knew her to be a just and reasonable ruler, which earned her his respect. She was, however, composed and collected to a degree that Dimitri found unsettling. In truth, he often suspected her of hiding some grand ambition behind that serene smile. Seeing her now, he very much doubts that. Or perhaps her grand ambition was just to have her sister back in her life.

The night wears on, and the candles lighting the room are almost burned to their wick, a sure sign that they’ve stayed up far too late. El has eased up on the chatter, and her excitement has been replaced with a sleepy smile. Brunhilde looks exhausted too, the same dark shade in the hollows of her eyes that used to plague him too.

He leans across in his seat and grasps El’s upper arm. ‘I suppose we should head to bed,’ he says, quiet but loud enough that the others can hear too. They’ll have to depart early tomorrow morning to make it back to Linden in time. At this point, there’s probably no real point in sleeping, but he is resigned to getting her alone before she passes out. 

El nods and bids Hubert and Brunhilde goodnight with a long, tight hug for each then follows him out of the room. The bannister on the stairs is rickety and rough and he worries it’s going to come loose and clatter to the ground floor under his grip. 

On the second floor landing, she leans into him and smiles. ‘I’m so happy,’ she says, as if it weren’t obvious. 

\--

Once in the bedroom, all of the things he had planned to say to her slip through his hands like sand. He joins her in their bed, a modestly sized but comfortable queen size complete with freshly washed duvets. ‘This is the room I used to stay in as a child,’ she says, hoisting the covers up under her chin and snuggling herself into his side. 

Dimitri takes a few conscious breaths and tries to still the swarm in his head. ‘El,’ he says, announcing her name with purpose but then finds himself at a loss when he tries to follow it up. She looks at him with concern in her eyes, waiting for him to finish.

‘You’re a… you’re a princess. You’re a Hresvelg.’

El is quiet. He keeps looking at her, waiting for a response. Her pupils dart and she frowns, as if there’s a mathematical equation written on the wall that she’s staring at. 'How did you know?’ she finally asks, her voice quiet.

He breathes a sigh of relief at her level-headed reply. He was worried she would bolt; there must be a reason she’s kept this from him, after all.

‘I… aha, I…’ he interrupts himself with laughter as the sheer bizarreness of their situation finally hits him. There’s simply no way she’s going to believe what he’s about to say. But there’s no way to put it delicately either. And so, he takes a deep breath and speaks.

‘I am - or rather, I was - the king of Faerghus.’

El frowns and clicks her tongue. ‘Stop it, Dima. This isn’t the time for joking.’ Dimitri opens his mouth to protest, but El is charging forward. ‘I’m sorry for keeping it a secret from you. I had to do it for my own safety.’

‘No, El, I’m serious.’

‘I know this is a lot to take in, but are you even listening to what I’m saying? There’s still a lot that I need to explain,’ she says, turning onto her side to look at him.

Trying to reason with her when she’s blinkered herself like this is impossible. He shifts until he’s on top of her and grasps her upper arms, tilting her until she's on her back, careful to keep his touch light but making it impossible for her to not look at him.

‘I’m not lying. I am a Blaiddyd. I was the king until I abdicated.’

She looks up at him, her eyes wide as a barn owl’s. Dimitri cranes his neck and lowers his face closer to hers, watching her for some sign of acknowledgement.

‘No you’re not,’ she says, and she sounds so very certain of this that Dimitri can’t help but feel offended.

‘Saints, El…’ he groans, letting his chin drop to his chest in exasperation.

‘Why?’

Dimitri knows what she’s trying to ask - _why did you end up in the countryside?_ \- but it sounds very much like she’s drawing his entire existence into question. He doesn’t answer her this time, just fixes his gaze on hers in the hopes that she’ll realize he’s serious. When no response comes, he decides to pull out his trump card.

As a child he was tasked with studying the names of all of the Adrestrian royalty, and all of the families that comprise the Alliance’s roundtable. He can’t claim to remember all of them, but he was always told to pay special attention to the one named Edelgard, as she was the closest in age to him and may end up attending the Officer’s Academy in the same year as him. That didn’t come to pass, but he never forgot the strong-sounding name. If he had to hazard a guess, the woman staring up at him right now in bewilderment is none other than…

‘Edelgard.’

Her next inhale comes a little too sharply, and her brow furrows into a frown. He was right. ‘How do you know my name?’

Dimitri doesn’t know how much longer they can drag this out for. ‘Because I’m the king of Faerghus, Edelgard.’

She sighs and closes her eyes, but when she reaches her hand up to play with his hair it feels like a revelation, and when her lids flicker open again there’s a familiar fondness in her gaze.

‘Dimitri,’ she says, and all of the air in his chest escapes in a puff of breathless laughter.

‘Yes,’ he says, ‘that’s me.’

Edelgard shakes her head, but she’s laughing too, a quietly astounded giggle that makes her shoulders quake. He pulls away to lie beside her again. 

‘Dima was a real nickname from my childhood, though. But it’s, well, a little affectionate, I suppose. My full name is more appropriate for when you’re angry with me,’ he says.

‘I’ll remember that.' She pulls her arms out of the duvet and rests them over top of it. ‘There’s a lot I still have to tell you, but… we’ll have to return here soon.’

‘That’s alright with me. Two days travel isn’t so bad, and...I think our little house is going to grow a bit cramped now that you'll be with us. I’m sure Ashe and Dedue wouldn’t mind the privacy for a few months out of the year.’

Edelgard surges forward then, as if all of the affection in her body is driving her towards him, gathers him in her arms and squeezes harder than she ever has. He kisses her over and over, her shoulder, her cheek, her forehead, and they silently work through the overflow of emotions together. _I love you_ remains unsaid, but it’s in the air, in their hands, in the way Edelgard grasps his arms like he’s keeping her afloat, how Dimitri stays awake and strokes her back until she falls asleep. 

As he drifts off, the word _fate_ floats through his mind like a leaf on the autumn wind. He wonders if there was another life out there, where they would be sharing a bedroom in a castle instead, or perhaps sitting next to one another in a Garreg Mach classroom. Before he finally gives in to his sleep, he decides that it hardly matters. There is nowhere he would rather be than right here, with Edelgard. With El. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE!! I CANT BELIEVE IT!! Thank you so so much to everyone who commented, especially those of you who left multiple comments on different chapters. You guys are angels ;-; When I started this I wasn't expecting anyone to read it, so it's been an extremely pleasant surprise! I hope you enjoyed these final chapters, I know I enjoyed writing them. I love these two to bits so seeing them just being happy for once is really rewarding. 
> 
> I'm also on twitter now if anyone is interested, it's   
> @colli_stakes
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading <3


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